Turning Tables: Season Five
by Princess Pinky
Summary: With the return of Adrian's first love and Grace's uncertainty over her future as a doctor, how would the final season have been different?
1. To Begin Without

**A/N: **And here we are at the beginning of the end…

_**Turning Tables**_

**To Begin Without**

The hallway was spinning and focus was zooming out, becoming blurry like looking through a window running with rain. Adrian Lee held her breath. She'd fantasized about this moment for years; about all the things she'd say, all the things she'd do, and now that he was within arm's length she couldn't remember any of it.

Was he within arm's length? Was he _really_? She couldn't be sure. Everything seemed corporeal enough, but it always did in dreams. If it was a dream, she wasn't about to squander it. Adrian lurched forward and pressed her hands to either side of his face. _Warmth._ She felt her mascara running. _"¿Antonio? ¿Es realmente usted?"_

"_Si,"_ he promised.

"But…how?"

"I beat the cancer. It beat my hair, but I beat it in the end."

Adrian brushed her thumb in a circle around his eyes, the curves of his ears, down his jawline, and ran her fingers over the spiky stubble of his army-looking hairstyle. She found herself missing the heat of his thick black waves. "No," she wheezed, something between a laugh and a sob. "How did you find me? Here? Today? _Now._"

Antonio Vasquez reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a folded piece of paper. When he opened it to its full length, the fold lines were soft and deep. He turned it over and showed it to Adrian. "_Mi_ _tía_ saw the Valedictorian announcement in the local paper and sent me an e-mail. She knew I'd been trying to find you online, but I guess you're not really into social media."

Adrian shook her head, unable to stop the flow of tears.

"Anyway, when I got the e-mail I looked up the article on the newpaper's website and when I read the ceremony date I immediately booked a flight down here." He shook his head, laughing. "I was sure I was going to lose you on your way out of here and then you ducked into the hall and I followed."

"I can't believe you're here."

Antonio rubbed his fingers over the watery black ribbons on Adrian's cheeks. "Neither can I."

And just like that, she was fourteen again. Every feeling she'd ever had about Antonio slammed into her chest like a detonating skyscraper and she pulled his face towards hers, their lips barely brushing before she remembered Ben and turned her head; Antonio's kiss landed on her right cheek. She drew her arms around his neck and held him against her body, crying softly when he slipped his arms around her in return.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace Bowman angled her cell phone at a small cupcake in her hand: it had orange frosting topped with an upside down mini peanut butter cop, a small Hershey's rectangle balanced atop the Reese's, and a tail of yellow icing to mimic a graduation tassel on the Hershey's. The photo snapped, she hit _Send_, and proceeded to lick away the frosting tassel. A few minutes later her phone buzzed.

_Those are cute!_

_Aren't they? I'm slightly jealous I didn't think of them myself. Do you want me to bring home any for you and George?_

_Only if it's not too much trouble._

_O.K._

"Grace?"

"Ms. Lee!" Grace squeaked.

Cindy Lee scrunched her eyebrows. "Have you seen Adrian?"

Grace shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "No, sorry," she said, finding it increasingly difficult to look Cindy in the eyes. "I've been looking for her too."

"That's strange," Cindy mumbled. "I would have thought she'd be here by now. I tried to call, but she won't pick up."

"Maybe she's driving?"

"Maybe. Everyone else seems to be here."

"If I see her, I'll tell her you were asking."

"Thank you."

Grace stuffed the Reese's into her mouth and stared down the dessert table until she felt it was safe to peer over her shoulder again and her best friend's mother was nowhere in sight. She breathed a sigh of relief.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Adrian, it's me. Where are you? Your mom's wandering around half mad. You should've been here twenty minutes ago. Come on, please just call me back. Or text. Anything to let me know you're okay. I don't want to be clingy, but the last time you fell off the face of the Earth it was because you got abducted, so I think I have a right to be a _little_ overly cautious—"

"If you are satisfied with your message, press one. If you would like to re-record, press—"

Ben Boykewich hit the first option and shoved his phone into his back pocket.

"Hey, Ben, I think you might wanna come wrangle your loin fruit!"

Ben hurried in the direction of Heather Willis' voice and found her waiting with one foot in the mansion and one foot in the backyard. "What's going on?"

Heather smirked and motioned to the lawn.

Ben heard uproarious laughter as he stepped outside and the first thing he noticed were some guests aiming their cell phones near the gift table. When he followed the direction of their eyes and camera lenses, he saw his daughter's pigtailed head peek out from under the tablecloth, her mouth covered in orange frosting and cupcake crumbs. Ben moved to step forward, but felt Heather grab his arm.

"No, wait, this is where it gets good…"

"Wh—"

Mercy Lee crawled out from beneath the gift table in nothing but her birthday suit and Disney Princess Pull-Ups. She saw many of the guests laughing, cooing, and pointing at her and she clapped excitedly and began do her best imitation of her mother's dance to Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie."

The color drained from Ben's face. "How long–"

"She's been stripping for about five minutes. First the shoes, then the socks…she kept peeking out from under the table, doin' her little jig, and running back under there to hide."

"Why didn't you do something?!"

"What?" Heather shrugged. "She's not my spawn. Besides, she's clearly loving the attention."

Ben waved his hand angrily at Heather. _"Mercy!"_

At the sound of her father's yelp, Mercy squealed and darted back under the table.

"Mercy!" Ben yelled. "You come out from under there right now!"

"_That's_ gonna work," Heather snorted.

Ben dropped into a squat in the grass, attempting to avoid kneeling in his new slacks. "Mercy Valencia Lee!"

With feet like greased lightning, Mercy sprung off down the length of the table.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"So, have you given any thought to it yet?"

"Yeah," Ricky Underwood replied sarcastically. "I was thinking about it the entire time I was in the bathroom."

"You had to have given it some thought," his girlfriend, Clementine Tristesse, pressed.

Ricky fingered a strand of Clementine's golden-brown hair and tucked it behind her ear. "My parents put you up to this, didn't they?"

Clementine kissed the corner of his mouth. "They just want to get you something special for graduation."

"Well I haven't decided yet."

Clementine gauged him and slowly rolled her head back on her shoulders. "Well don't take too long."

Ricky slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. "I'll get back to them, but they aren't here right now."

"They're just downstairs," Clementine replied, her face flushed as she pulled away from his mouth.

"We don't have to go downstairs."

Clementine entwined her fingers with her boyfriend's. "I think we do."

Ricky pulled her back as she tried to walk him away and kissed the back of her hand.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I don't know about this, Adrian…"

"_Por favor,"_ Adrian rasped. "For me."

Antonio reached across the passenger seat to lay his hand on hers. _"Para usted."_

"Thank you."

"Are you sure your friends are going to be okay with this?"

"It's my party," she smiled. "Everyone close to me was invited. I would've sent you an invitation myself if I'd known…"

Antonio squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't. No apologies, not today. I just want to celebrate."

"Right." Antonio nodded. "Well in that case, let's get this party started!"

Adrian grinned as she walked around to the trunk of the car and looped her arm around Antonio's. She noted his gaping expression as they approached the front doors of the Boykewich Mansion.

"You've got some fancy friends."

Adrian held her breath at the word _friend_.

"Someone actually lives here?" Antonio asked, his head rolling around on his shoulders. "You could fit a whole church in this place! That's it, isn't it? A convent lives here?"

"Not quite. It belongs to Leo Boykewich."

"Boykewich?" Antonio echoed. "That sounds fam–"

"The Sausage King."

"That's it!" Antonio nodded. "You know him?"

"Well," Adrian said, stopping suddenly before they reached the door to the backyard. "There's something I need to tell–"

"There you are!"

Adrian stilled.

"Everyone has been looking all over for you," Cindy rambled. "Where have you—" She stopped, mirroring her daughter's stance as she saw the young man looped around her daughter's arm.

Antonio stood a little straighter. "_Señorita Lee._ Or is it _Señora _now?"

Cindy twisted her head between her daughter and Adrian's old flame. "Uh…no," she said, flashing him a ringless ring finger. "I…Adrian?"

"It's really him," Adrian whispered.

"I didn't know how to contact you before I came down–"

"No, no," Cindy interrupted. "I – I just don't know what to say."

Adrian felt Antonio's muscles tightening under her arm. "There will be time enough for catching up later, right Antonio?"

"Of course."

Cindy swallowed uncertainly. "Mr. Boykewich has been waiting on you."

"Where is he?"

"Out by the stage."

"Stage? If he thinks I'm giving another speech—"

"Just hurry, he's been waiting long enough."

"Right. Thanks, Mom."

"There's a stage?"

Adrian shrugged as she pulled Antonio into the backyard. "There's a theater too."

"You seem to know this house pretty well."

"About that…Antonio," she said, stopping halfway across the lawn. "Mr. Boykewich is the father of—"

"Adrian!"

"Grace!"

"Grace?"

"No, sorry," Adrian said, "Leo's not Grace's father, _that's_ Grace." She pointed at her best friend.

Grace's brow furrowed. "Nice to meet you…" she said, offering her hand automatically.

"Antonio," the latter filled in.

Grace's hand stiffened in the Latino's hand. "I'm sorry, _Antonio?_" She looked pointedly at her friend.

Adrian nodded.

"I take it there's something I'm missing?"

"No!" Grace said quickly. "It's just—are you graduation-speech-Antonio?" But what she really wanted to ask was if he was first-love-Antonio; even if she already knew, she wanted it said out loud.

"Guess I got to be there with the graduating class after all."

'Surprise,' Adrian mouthed.

Grace bit the insides of her cheeks. "I can't wait to hear this story…"

A tap punctuated the outdoor sound system and a familiar cough pushed its way through the speakers. "I see our guest of honor is here," Leo's voice boomed jovially.

Adrian turned to see Leo on stage in his wheelchair, holding the microphone.

"I'd like to thank everyone who has come today to celebrate Adrian's accomplishments with us. We're all so proud of you, Adrian."

Adrian nodded and closed her eyes, feeling everyone's eyes on her.

"And I hope you don't mind, but there are a few old friends I've invited to join us." Leo motioned to Camille Cartmel to draw back the curtains on the stage. "Please give a warm welcome to a little brand I had the pleasure of catering for a few times over the years. You may have heard of them, Green Day?"

The curtains drew back, revealing Green Day in position to sing their first song.

Leo wheeled over to the lead singer, shook his hand, and offered up the microphone.

"Congratulations, Adrian!" the brand members called collectively. "This one's for you." The guitar strums of "Time of Your Life" began to ping from the speakers.

All around them, people began to find partners and begin dancing. Antonio offered his upturned hand. "I know I've missed quite a few over these past few years, so would it be okay if I asked for this dance?"

"…time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test and don't ask why…"

Adrian blinked back the welling in her eyes and swallowed hard. "Sure," she whispered, placing her hand in his.

Antonio drew her close and wrapped his arm carefully around her waist.

Adrian rested her cheek against Antonio's shoulder and settled into the slow sway of their feet.

Across the dance floor, Margaret and Sanjay Shakur danced up alongside their son and his girlfriend. "Mind if we cut in?" Margaret asked.

"Not at all," Clementine laughed. She disentangled herself from Ricky and took Shakur's awaiting hand.

Ricky rolled his eyes as his mother took his hand. "I know what you want."

"That's interesting," Margaret said. "Because your father and I haven't the slightest idea what you want."

"Come on, Mom. This is _Adrian's_ party."

"And we agreed to come because we're all proud of her, but just because she's Valedictorian doesn't make her achievements anymore special than yours."

"It kind of does, hence the honors."

Margaret shook her head. "You've overcome a lot, Ricky."

"I know."

"Many foster kids don't even make it to graduation."

"I'm not a foster kid; I haven't been a foster kid for a very long time."

"Well I'm glad you feel that way," Margaret said, a surprised yet genuine smile playing on her lips. "That's how your father and I see it too."

"I was wrong all those years ago," Ricky said.

"Wrong about what?"

Ricky stopped dancing. "Wrong about adoption."

Margaret tilted her head to the side.

"That's what I want," Ricky said. "For my graduation present, I want you to adopt me. Officially."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_Lita_ picked this out especially for you to wear to Mommy's graduation last time she had a flight in Mexico," Ben said, holding up the dress Mercy took off downstairs. "This cost a lot of money!"

Mercy blew a raspberry at the dress.

"Well you can't run around wearing nothing," Ben argued.

Mercy folded her arms stubbornly. _"Purrnoso."_

"Purr what?" Ben asked, racking his brain for whatever Spanish word she might be trying to say. Then he blinked. _"Pruriginoso!"_ he said, excitedly realizing she was attempting to say something in Italian. He glanced at the rough lace trim on the dress and rubbed it between his fingers. "Okay," he sighed. "I guess it _is_ kind of itchy, but…" He blinked and tilted his head at the faint sound coming from downstairs. He moved to the window and peered outside, realizing that the band was already on stage. "She's already here!"

Mercy bounced up and down on her father's bed.

Ben grunted and hurriedly reached for the diaper bag. He rifled through it a few times before pulling out a hot pink _Dora the Explorer_ shirt without bottoms and tugged it over his daughter's head. "We've gotta go find Mommy!"

"_¡Mamá! ¡Mamá!"_ Mercy clapped.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"…it's something unpredictable, but in the end is right…"

Grace spotted Ben carrying Mercy out the backdoor and made a beeline to him, attempting to block his view of Adrian and Antonio. "Ben, hey!"

"Hey, sorry Grace, but we're looking for Adrian, I heard the band start–"

"Yeah!" Grace said brightly. "I thought maybe we could have then next song?"

"Well, the first song really should've been with Adrian, but I've just about missed the whole thing." He motioned agitatedly to the stage as the music was fading from the speakers. "So the next one should be with–"

"_¡Mamá!"_

"Exactly." Ben kissed Mercy's forehead and looked over his shoulder to where his daughter was pointing animatedly. He wasn't sure he believed what he saw: Adrian, comfortably swaying in the arms of another man, and one he didn't recognize at that. He blinked and blinked again.

"_¡Mamá! ¡Mamá!"_

Antonio paid no attention to the sound of the screeching toddler, but Adrian's head popped up and her gaze entangled with Ben's. She stopped dancing, despite Antonio's confused gestures.

"Adrian?" Ben asked, nearing the duo.

"_¡Mamá!"_

"Ben," Adrian said.

Ben and Antonio exchanged confused looks.

Grace gulped. "Maybe I should take Mercy?" she offered.

Adrian shook her head and reached for the bouncing baby girl. "No," she said. "Antonio, I'd like you to meet someone very important to me. This is Mercy…my daughter."

Mercy pressed a sloppy kiss to her mother's cheek.

"And this is her father, Ben…my - my boyfriend."

Antonio's shoulders stiffened, but he smiled graciously at the child. "It's nice to meet you both." As polite as he was, the words dripped with strain.

Ben offered a rigid hand. "Antonio?" he said, repeating what Adrian had said when she introduced Mercy.

"Maybe I should take Mercy now?" Grace offered again.

This time, Adrian wordlessly handed her daughter over to her friend.


	2. I Call Shotgun

**A/N: **I had a family emergency recently, so finishing this chapter was a little delayed. Still, this chapter's been a long time coming, so I once I had the time, writing it flew by.

_**Turning Tables**_

**I Call Shotgun**

A graduation party wasn't the venue for the type of conversation that needed having. Her next thought was some place quiet, some place like Mercy's room. But it was _Mercy_'s room—the child she shared with Ben. That thought alone made her realize that any room in the Boykewich Mansion was inappropriate. She needed someplace neutral, yet away from the commotion of her friends and family. The only immediate place that came to mind was her convertible.

Adrian was taken aback by the way both Ben and Antonio reached for the passenger seat like it was second nature to them. What was she to say? She was grateful for Antonio, who bowed out with grace, even if it made sitting next to her boyfriend that much more strained. Antonio took backseat to Ben, quite literally, so she could look at them both as she spoke, and once they were both seated, she had no idea where to begin.

"I didn't mean to cause any problems for anyone," Antonio spoke up. He looked at Ben. Or rather, the back of Ben's head. "Adrian didn't know I was going to be here. _I_ didn't know I was going to be here, not until the last minute. I didn't even think I'd get an opportunity to speak with her."

Ben turned around, his face a mask. "She called you 'Antonio.'"

Antonio bowed his head.

Ben twisted his blank expression to his girlfriend. "And how many Antonios do you know?"

Adrian swallowed thickly. Taken on its own, the question sounded rather racist, but Adrian knew Ben better than that and could pinpoint the reason that he was asking. "One."

"The same one," Ben said slowly, "that you met on the first day of first grade?"

This time Adrian bowed her head.

"Forgive me," Ben said, returning his gaze to the backseat, "but I got the impression you were…"

"Dead."

Ben nodded.

Antonio looked mournfully at Adrian. "You're not the only one."

"_Wanna know your future?"_

"_How?"_

"_Pick a color."_

_Seven-year-old Adrian watched as an African-American girl several years older than her tucked her fingers into the underside of a folded piece of paper with somewhat of a flower shape. The top of the paper was square, composed of four slanted smaller squares whose inner points met in the middle. The squares were colored pink, blue, yellow, and green._

"_Pink."_

"_P." The girl opened the contraption vertically. "I." Then horizontally. "N." Vertically. "K." Horizontally. "Now pick a number." She showed her friend the inside of the formation._

"_Two."_

"_One. Two. Now pick a number again."_

"_One."_

_The girl turned one of the flaps over. "'You will get engaged one time.'"_

"_Well duh!" the other girl said, rolling her eyes. "When you fall in love, it's forever!"_

"_Do mine, do mine!"_

"_No," the other girl grumbled. "It's stupid." She grabbed the fortune teller from her friend and threw it at the outdoor trash bin, but it bounced off the rim and landed on the blacktop near chalk drawn hopscotch squares._

_Adrian dug her heels into the round, stopping her swing, and began walking toward the trashcan._

"_Adrian!" Antonio yelled, scrambling to stop his swing and catch up with her. "Where are you going?"_

_Adrian reached the trashcan without answering him and bent down to pick up the fortune teller. She examined the folds of the paper which contained a series of words and numbers. She heard Antonio's sneakers squeak behind her._

"_What's that?" he asked, attempting to peer over her shoulder._

_Adrian grinned mischievously and began to flex the paper: horizontal, vertical, horizontal, vertical._

"I kind of gathered that from Adrian's speech," Ben said. "Along with the part about you getting diagnosed with cancer in eighth grade."

"Acute lymphoblastic leukemia," Adrian clarified.

"I'm sorry," Ben said earnestly. "My mom passed away from metastatic breast cancer when I was ten. The cancer wards are…they're very upsetting. The staff do their best, but…still."

"I can't say I know much about that. After I was diagnosed, my mom moved up to Tennessee so I could get treatment at St. Jude's. But I'm sorry about your mom. I saw what my mom went through trying to be there for me. I honestly can't imagine being a kid and watching someone dear to me go through treatment."

Ben sniffed and looked away from the other two convertible occupants. "The thing is, I can't imagine letting someone dear to me go through treatment alone. I'm sorry to be rude, but I don't understand how you just stopped talk to each other after being such close friends for so long."

"It's almost two-thousand miles from Valley Glen to Memphis," Antonio replied.

"It was two-thousand-seven. There was e-mail, phones, snail mail."

"And what was he going to say!" Adrian snapped. "'Hey, how are you? Nothing new with me today. Just the usual—puked up breakfast, lunch, and dinner. What's up with you?'"

Antonio reached between the seats to lay his palm on Adrian's quivering shoulder.

Without thinking, Adrian moved her hand to lay it over his.

Ben looked up just in time to see the gesture.

"What Adrian means is, the diagnosis didn't look good and in the event of the worst, we didn't want those to be our last memories of each other."

"But never knowing?" Ben asked, trying not to look at their hands.

"Having hope was better than having none."

Antonio nodded. "A clean break was best for everyone."

"A clean break," Ben whispered.

_Twelve-year-old Adrian sat cross-legged on the rooftop with the fortune teller situated on her thumb and index fingers. She moved her fingers back and forth while the evening air rustled her hair. Overhead, the stars winked at her. Far off, she smelt the faint musk of barbeque and her stomach growled._

"_I figured you'd be up here."_

_Adrian didn't start at his voice. Instead, she grinned and counted the moments until Antonio sat down beside her._

"_Whatcha doin'?"_

_Adrian shrugged. "Thinking."_

"'_Bout what?"_

"_Food."_

"_Empty fridge?"_

"_Yeah, well," Adrian replied. "So?"_

"_You could eat at my house."_

"_It's not like you have that much either."_

"_The point is to share what you do."_

_Adrian felt her cheeks grow hot and quickly looked down at her fortune teller. "Pick a color."_

_Antonio studied the squares. "My favorite."_

"_V-E-R-D-E," Adrian said, moving her fingers through the motions. "Now a number."_

"_Three."_

"_Uno. Dos. Tres." Adrian smiled. "Okay, now a word." She showed up the inside of the fortune teller so he could see his options._

_Antonio's cheeks darkened a bit._

_Adrian squinted, unable to tell if it was the night shadows or something else._

"'_Kissing.'"_

_Adrian swallowed sharply, not meeting Antonio's eyes. She turned the flap. "'Your true love likes kissing under the stars.'"_

_He glanced cautiously at the sky. "Oh."_

"_Oh?"_

_Antonio shrugged. "I was just wondering if my true love has ever kissed anyone before."_

_Adrian unconsciously licked her lips. "Have you?"_

_Antonio shook his head._

"_Oh." Adrian looked back at the sky. "May–" She felt the rest of the word disappear into Antonio's mouth. It was a moist, awkward kiss, caught half on her lower lip and half on her chin. She pulled away, hot faced and giggling._

_Antonio covered his face with his hands. "¡Estúpido!"_

_Adrian pushed the fortune teller aside and grabbed her friend by the forearms, wrenching his hands down. "Todo está bien."_

"_You're just being nice, that was vergonzoso."_

"_Okay," Adrian said. "Maybe it wasn't exactly how I imagined my first kiss, but it could've been worse."_

_Antonio laughed bitterly. "Gracias."_

"_I'm serious." She scooted closer. "What if we try again?"_

"_Really?"_

"_Yeah."_

_Antonio grinned. "Okay, but on one condition."_

"_¿Qué?"_

"_You have to kiss me this time."_

_Adrian breathed in sharply, closed her eyes, and leaned in. She missed his lips entirely and kissed his nose._

_Antonio snorted._

"_Ewe!" Adrian yelped._

"_Why did you close your eyes?"_

"_You're supposed to!"_

"_Says who?"_

"_The telenovelas!"_

_Antonio rolled his eyes. "Well at least now I know I'm not the only one who's estpúdio at kissing."_

"_Maybe we just need to do it more."_

"_Oh yeah?"_

"_Yeah," Adrian shrugged. "How else will I know if I like kissing under the stars?"_

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Are you sure you don't want the bed?" Grace peered over the edge of her bed to where Adrian was on the floor with a sleeping bag and pillow.

"I'm fine."

"It's really no trouble–"

"Grace, I'm the one imposing on you so shut up and let me keep the floor."

Grace rolled her head back into her pillow. "O-K."

Adrian rustled in the sleeping bag.

"So is it all right to ask?"

Adrian sighed.

"I guess I should take that as a 'no.'"

"Go ahead."

"I don't want to push."

"Grace Bowman doesn't want to push," Adrian snorted.

"Adrian!" Grace squawked.

A soft mewl escaped Christian's crib.

Even though the blonde couldn't see her in the dark, Adrian pressed her finger to her lips and _shhhed_ her friend. "You don't want to wake the fire alarm over there, do you? Just ask me what you want to ask me."

"What did Ben say?"

Adrian shook her head against her pillow. "He didn't."

"You mean you didn't tell him?"

"No…but I get the distinct impression he knows anyway. How could he not? It's obvious, isn't it?"

"I can't believe you never told him about Antonio."

"I barely told you, Grace. No offense. But something as personal as that isn't something you just go around talking to people about."

"Ben isn't just people."

"Yeah," Adrian agreed. "That's what makes it worse."

"Do you…" Grace squirmed under her covers. "Do you, um…"

"Still love him?"

"Yeah," Grace murmured.

Adrian stared at the ceiling, dotted with glow in the dark star decals Grace had put up for Christian's benefit.

"_Pick a color."_

_Fourteen-year-old Adrian contemplated her options. "Azul."_

"_A-Z-U-L."_

"_Tres," she said before Antonio could give her the next direction._

"_Uno. Dos. Tres." Antonio tapped his foot. "What? You don't remember your choices for this one?"_

"_Amar."_

"'_Your true love's name begins with the letter 'A.''"_

"_What!" Adrian bellowed. "That's not what it says!"_

"_It is!"_

_Adrian lunged at her boyfriend, grabbing the fortune teller out of his hands and peeling back the flap labeled _Love_. She saw smudgey pink and black eraser marks beneath the fortune scrawled in Antonio's hand. "You cheated."_

"_Did not."_

"_Did so!"_

"_Did not," he insisted. Then grabbed Adrian around the waist and pulled her body to his. "I'm just taking control of my destiny, how about that?"_

Silence persisted. Adrian wasn't sure how much time had passed since Grace had asked her question, but it had been a while. "Grace?" she whispered. "Are you still awake?"

"_A-hm,"_ Grace replied sleepily.

"Can I ask you something?"

Grace peered blearily over the side of the bed.

"What kind of person does it make me, if I say I never stopped?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian plundered through the garage where leftover boxes of this and that were housed after she and Ben had moved in. The left wall were his boxes, the right wall were hers. Every single box on the right side of the garage had been removed from its place, the packaging tape torn off, and the flaps wrenched from position. There were old dolls, board games, shoes, photographs, and even a box of old VHS tapes strewn around the garage.

Adrian sat in the middle of the mess with her palms plastered to her forehead. She whimpered softly to herself. Every box had been checked twice since the crack of dawn. Her fingers were numb, her feet sore, and her stomach growling. Adrian pulled herself to her feet and wandered around the strewn contents, inspecting each box again to see if she'd missed something the first two times.

When the third sweep proved futile, her eyes slowly roamed over to Ben's side of the garage. She looked at the neatly stacked boxes and slowly meandered towards them. Most of the boxes were clearly visible with his name in blue Sharpie, but a handful of them were not. She began to pull the boxes out one by one, checking to make sure his name were on another side the boxes.

The second-to-last box was a small one, about the size of an average dictionary. It didn't have a name anyone on it. Slowly, Adrian peeled back the tape and tugged open the flaps. On top was a layer of bubble wrap and when she pulled it away, she found ten blown glass Christmas ornaments and the fortune teller, although the latter was yellowed and crumpled. She set the box down and gingerly picked up the fortune teller, cradling it to her chest like it might dissolve into dust at a moment's notice.

_Fifteen-year-old Adrian heard her bedroom door open and close from the safety of her comforter. She pulled the thick fabric tighter around her ears._

"_Your mom let me in," came Antonio's voice._

_Adrian didn't answer._

"_You can stay mad at me," he continued, "but I really hope you won't. This isn't easy for me either, Adrian. It's not what I want."_

_Adrian buried her wet face into the mattress to muffle any sounds she feared she wouldn't be able to hold in._

_The mattress inclined at the foot of the foot. "Please come out," Antonio pleaded. "I miss my friend."_

"_Your 'friend'?" Adrian rasped. She clawed the comforter away, her face makeup-less and hair spazzed with a severe case of static-over-bedhead._

"_Best friend."_

_Adrian shook her head, tears leaving wet polka dots along her comforter. She reached into her nightstand and pulled out the fortune teller, crumpled it, and hurled it at Antonio, hitting him square in the chest. It bounced and landed on the thinly carpeted floor._

_Antonio bent over and picked up the fortune teller. He did his best to smooth out Adrian's furious creases, but the scars were evident. "I asked my mom to delay treatment so I could finish out the school year."_

"_So if you die it's my fault?!"_

"_No. That's not what I meant at all. I just wanted you to know that my time with you is important, Adrian. You're so important that I put you before myself and I'd do it again. I am doing it again, which is why it has to be this way. I wish you could see it the way I do. I don't want either of us to suffer anymore than we have to. I don't want my last memory of you to be like this. Or worse. And I don't want your last memory of me—"_

"_Don't. Don't talk like that!"_

_Antonio hung his head. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."_

Adrian slipped into Mercy's room and gazed cautiously over the side of the crib.

The twenty-five-month-old was sleeping peacefully beneath a _Winnie the Pooh_ blanket, with her little arms wrapped fiercely around the belly of Mr. Bear.

Adrian dared not lower the bar on the crib, lest she wake the sleeping tot, but she did kiss her index and middle fingers and press the kiss lightly to the toddler's temple.

Mercy suckled in response and hugged Mr. Bear even more tightly.

Adrian turned to Mercy's dresser where the fortune teller was resting. She picked it up and examined it in the poor light from the _Dora the Explorer_ nightlight.

_Chik, chuk, chik._

_Adrian tiptoed up behind him and stole a look over Antonio's shoulder as he turned over the flap labeled _3_._

You will have three children.

_Adrian felt her eyes sting and quickly looked away._

_Antonio set the fortune teller down, but did not turn around._

"_How many hours have we spent on this roof with that thing?" Adrian asked. Her voice shivered. "How many times have we talked about our daughter having my knack for crossword puzzles and our son having your empathy? We planned our whole lives on this roof and for what?"_

_Antonio turned and encircled Adrian with his arms._

"_I don't want kids anymore. The future can keep them all. As long as I get to keep you."_

"_Don't say that," Antonio hushed. "You'll be an incredible mother."_

"_Only if you're the father."_

"_We're fifteen," he reminded softly. "Isn't it a little silly to be talking about marriage and babies right now anyway?"_

"_It's not like the plan was to do all of that right this minute. We had our wholes lives to do them. Had," she repeated. "I can't say goodbye to you. Antonio, te quiero!"_

_Antonio tucked Adrian's hair behind her ear. "Yo también te quiero."_

The toilet flushed down the hallway and Adrian flattened against the wall like a soldier at salute. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for the sound of the door opening and Ben's footsteps receding back to their bedroom, followed by the faint bump of their bedroom shutting. She exhaled and after a moment, quietly slipped out of Mercy's room and hurried down the hallway, forgetting the fortune teller on the edge of the dresser.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian lingered in the darkness of the stairwell. She touched her chest and felt it vibrating. Holding her breath, she shoved the door to the rooftop open and stepped out into the brisk morning air. Across the rooftop, she saw a familiar silhouette.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up."

Adrian padded across the rooftop to stand by Antonio, staring over the edge of the roof at the city below. "I shouldn't be here. I should be home, with my daughter."

"She looks like I always imagined."

"She looks like someone else's child?" Adrian bit back.

"No. I always expected that any child of yours would look the spitting image of you, Adrian. I was right."

Adrian shook her head. "I thought the last time was the last time. Why did you come back?"

_The rolled up sleeping bags hit the ground with plushy thumps. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Antonio asked._

_Adrian extracted a lighter from her pocket and lit three candles along the edge of the rooftop. They flickered, but the night was calm and they didn't go out. She set the lighter down beside them and nodded. "If this is the last time, I want it to be something special; something I'll never forget."_

"_I don't want you to do something you'll regret."_

"_If you leave and we don't do this, I'll regret it."_

_Antonio nodded._

"_Unless…"_

_Antonio angled his head._

"_Unless you think you'll regret it?"_

"_No. Never." Antonio knelt and began to unfurl the sleeping bags._

_Adrian dropped to his side and helped him. Their hands bumped time and again as they unzipped the bags and spread them out, one over the other in a makeshift bed. They crawled in together and Adrian snuggled into the crook of Antonio's arm. "What if you get better?"_

"_I don't think that's going to happen."_

"_But what if?"_

_Antonio brushed his fingers through Adrian's hair._

_Adrian kissed his nose, reminding him of the first time she kissed him and causing him to laugh through his tears._

_Antonio returned the gesture by kissing her chin._

_Adrian ran her fingers through his hair, trying to push the thought of him losing it out of her mind. Her hands moved down, down, down until they found the edge of his cotton t-shirt and she began to push it up his torso._

_Antonio wiggled his way out of the shirt and returned the favor by helping Adrian out of her spaghetti strap top. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her without her top on, though he couldn't help but notice the bra was lacy and verde. He'd never seen it before. He kissed a trail down her chest and belly._

_Adrian reached for the waist of his jeans and fumbled. She hissed beneath the drape of the sleeping bag._

"_What's the matter?" Antonio asked. "Are you having second thoughts?"_

"_No. It's your estúpido jeans. Why don't these have a zipper?"_

"_They're button up."_

"_Yeah, that's the problem."_

"_What? You want me to come down there and help you?"_

_Adrian hit his leg. "Shut up, I got i—ouch!"_

"_What?"_

"_I broke a nail."_

"_That's romantic."_

_Adrian poked her head up from the blankets. "Shut up or I'll shank you with this," she said, threatening him with her shrewdly ripped index nail._

"_Lucky I didn't have a zipper, you might've got your hair caught."_

_Adrian pressed the broken nail to his Adam's apple._

_Antonio grinned and lifted her hand, nipping softly at her fingertips._

"_I don't think this is how these things are supposed to go," Adrian said from atop his chest._

_Antonio wove his hand under the covers, finding Adrian's body through touch and working his way down until he felt the hot zipper on her hip huggers. He tugged it down and felt Adrian assist him by shimmying out of them._

_Adrian pressed a kiss to his lips._

"_Are you sure about this?" he asked again._

"_Are you?"_

"_Si."_

"_Si."_

_Minutes later, still on top of her boyfriend, Adrian quivered._

_Antonio wrapped his arms around her. "Are you okay?"_

"_Yeah," she said, her eyes tearing up. "Don't stop."_

"_Am I hurting you?"_

_Adrian shook her head. "It's pressure," she explained. "New, different, but not bad." She leaned her head down, pressing her ear to Antonio's chest. His heartbeat reverberated in her head._

"I guess I was _estúpido_."

"Very."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be." Adrian wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Did you think I wouldn't move on? You were the one who pushed me to!"

"That's not what I thought."

"Then what did you think?"

Antonio turned swiftly and pointed his finger at Adrian. "Don't you dare climb up on that high horse, Adrian! I'm not the only one at fault here. Yes, I came back, but you were the one who leaned in for a kiss and danced with me and never once mentioned Ben or Mercy."

"I also turned away from that kiss," Adrian reminded him. "But, you're right, I shouldn't have danced with you. Not when you didn't know the whole story."

"No."

"I guess I was _estúpido_."

"Very."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be." Antonio shut his eyes.

"Now what?"

"I don't know."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Mercy was pressed upright against the bars of her crib when her father came in. She bounced excitedly on her mattress, eager to get her feet on the carpet.

Ben lowered the bar of the crib and scooped Mercy out, kissing her and blowing raspberries on her tummy.

Mercy squealed and shrieked until Ben set her down and she immediately darted out the door.

Ben turned to follow her and paused in the doorframe, noticing the fortune teller on the dresser. He swept it into his palm and examined it, surprised by the throwback to his childhood: Henry had showed him one once and called it a cootie catcher and Alice argued it was a paper fortune teller. He slid his fingers and thumbs into the bottom of the device and the rules of the game came flooding back to him.

"Y-E-L-L-O-W."

In the center he found four options: love, wedding, kissing, and baby.

"L-O-V-E."

It brought him back to the same four words. Ben slid his hand out of the paper folds and pushed back the _Love_ flap.

_Your true love's name begins with the letter 'A.'_


	3. I Do And You Don't

**A/N: **Some great feedback on the previous chapter. Thanks so much, everyone!

_**Turning Tables**_

**I Do And You Don't**

"I hope you like beef stroganoff."

Adrian accepted the thickly piled plate from her friend. The steam tickled her chin as she sniffed the lumpy gray sauce. "Not my favorite," she said. "But your mom makes mean garlic bread." She lifted a slice of homemade garlic bread with bits of minced garlic baked against the sourdough.

"So," Grace said, spiraling her fork with egg noodles. "How long is he in town?"

Adrian nibbled at the crust of her bread. "A week."

"Ah."

"Well," she amended, "not actually a week. A week from the day he flew in, which was Friday, so he'll be here until the twenty-fourth."

"I see."

"You don't have to say it like that."

"Like what?"

"You know what."

Grace set her plate on her pillow. "I think you're projecting."

"Or maybe you're being judgmental?"

"Judgmental?" Grace asked rhetorically. "I've let you spend the night every night since graduation! How is that judgmental?"

Adrian set her plate down with a clatter. "And now you're going to lord it over my head!"

"Lower your voice! Christian—"

The infant's cry pierced their conversation like a knife to a water balloon.

Grace scowled. "Thanks a lot!" She scampered off her bed and lifted her son from his crib, bouncing him fruitlessly on her hip.

Adrian shook her head. "Thanks for dinner!"

Grace chased her friend to the door. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know!"

"Adrian, come back!"

"Clearly you don't want me here, so thanks but no thanks, I'll be fine."

"That's not true!" Grace hollered, but the door slammed in her face, prompting the child on her hip to let out an eardrum rupturing shriek.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I wish I knew what was going through her head, Alice."

"Well if you're nosing for advice, I'm not the person you should be asking. Remember, I'm the one who broke up with Henry because he wants to enlist as soon as he graduates." Alice pulled a piece of cold pepperoni off last night's pizza and pushed it to the edge of her plate.

"You had your reasons though."

"And I'm sure Adrian does too. I can't speak to the quality of those reasons, but I'm sure they exist."

"But after everything she and I have been through?"

Alice used her thumb nail to carve frowns in the hardened triangle of cheese. "You said she thought this guy was dead. After knowing him since she was six. That would be like if Henry or I cut off all ties with you tomorrow and you spent the next three years thinking we were probably dead but always having that lingering feeling that just maybe we were out there thinking about coming back home. I'm not trying to downplay what you've been through with Adrian, but think of it from her point of view: I'd say she went through a lot with Antonio too."

"So what should I do?"

"Did I not just tell you sixty seconds ago not to ask advice? I may be a human encyclopedia, but I don't have all the answers otherwise I wouldn't feel like shit after what happened with Henry."

"Sorry."

Alice shrugged. "It's okay." She pushed the plate to the middle of the table. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have lashed out at you."

"I probably deserved it."

Alice smiled. "Probably."

Ben nodded to the pizza discarded pizza. "You wanna order fresh takeout?"

Alice slipped her cell phone out of her back pocket. "I don't think anyone's open at this hour."

Ben dug his elbows into the table and dropped his head into his cupped hands. "Too bad we don't have some ramen."

"What the West calls 'ramen' is despicable."

"I didn't mean Top Ramen," Ben laughed. "I was talking about the stuff your dad used to make practically every time your parents had us over for dinner as kids."

"Ah, you mean_ real_ ramen." Alice pushed her chair back and stalked into the kitchen.

Ben swiveled his chair around. "What are you up to?"

Alice made a show of opening and closing his cupboards until she found a half a bag of flour, a container of salt, and a can of chicken broth, then she moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a single egg and a bottle three-fourths full of soy sauce. She dumped them onto the counter and crossed her arms.

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'? Get over here."

Ben wandered over to the pile of ingredients. "Is this a science project?"

"If you consider cooking a science, which I guess some do, so fair enough."

"We're making homemade ramen," he surmised.

"A little slow on the uptake, Ben."

"But isn't that an involved process?"

"Oh, my sad white friend, no, it's pretty painless, you'll be surprised. Now go wash your hands."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Clementine moaned and arched as her boyfriend slid his hot hand under her shirt, resting against the small of her back.

Ricky cocked his neck and pushed his head against Clementine's glossy hair, shoving it over her shoulder so he could gain access to the curve of her neck and shoulder. He suckled her neck and kissed a pathway from what would surely become a hickey to the fall of her shoulder.

Clementine kissed his ear, nipping playfully at the lobe as he kissed her.

Ricky shuddered as gooseflesh sprung over his arms and back. He paused in his ministrations and groaned. He slid his hand along her spine, finding the hook of her bra and unhitching it. He trailed his fingers around to her chest and began to massage her breasts.

Clementine pushed against her boyfriend, adding friction to his fervent fingers.

Keeping one hand under Clementine's shirt, Ricky slid the other between their bodies and tugged the zipper on his jeans.

Clementine suddenly pushed him away, breathless and flushed.

"It's okay," Ricky assured. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny condom. "Brand new."

"It's not that," Clementine said, reaching under her shirt to re-hook her bra.

"I thought you said your roommates were on a roadtrip this week?"

"They are."

"I am legal you know."

"I know."

"And we've been dating for nearly three months."

"I remember when we started dating."

Ricky frowned. "So what's the problem?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Her dashboard was green from the neon glow of the _Motel Limelight _sign. Ironically, nine of the fourteen letters in the sign were burnt out, which made it look like the sign read: _tel me_. Adrian's palms were too sweaty to recline her seat, so she chose to sit in her locked car in the near desolate parking lot.

Adrian wiped her palms on her jeans and pulled out her cell phone. She checked the windows again and bent across the seat to over her glove box. Inside was a green sticky note with a phone number in Antonio's hand. She tugged it out, peered out the windows again, and punched it into her cell phone. Her thumbs wobbled over the blank text box and she stole another wary glance out the windows.

"I should just go back to Grace's." But it was too late to do that. Besides, she didn't want to have to deal with apologizing at some godawful hour of the night. Or morning, depending on when she actually got back there and worked up the nerve to wake Grace out of her sleep. Her convertible was starting to get cold too. She eyed the windows and typed from memory: _Are you at your motel?_

Four minutes elapsed.

_Have you checked the time? Where else would I be?_

_What room?_

Another two minutes.

Adrian looked up to check the windows and shrieked, falling against her horn. As soon as she realized what was going on, she threw open the door. "Fuck! What the fuck, Antonio! Why would you do that?!"

Antonio doubled over laughing at her plight.

"Why didn't you just answer me back?!"

"I didn't think you were going to come all the way out here! This isn't the best part of town."

"I know, which is why you shouldn't go creeping up on people's cars in the dead of night!" She slapped his bare arm.

"Your hand feels like ice. How long have you been sitting out here?"

"Too long."

Antonio rubbed her cold arms. "Come inside where it's warm." He glanced at her car. "I mean, if you want to. I assume that's why you came?"

Adrian grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and armed the car. "What room?"

Antonio ushered her to room three and double locked the door after they got inside.

Adrian took a stance in front of the heater, relishing the hot flow of air onto her chilled skin. "My mom's condo is three also." She shook her head stupidly, not sure why she even chose to voice that observation out loud.

Antonio took a seat on the bed. There was a movie paused on the television screen. He reached for the remote and flicked it off.

"You know, the remote is the dirtiest thing in a motel room."

Antonio looked at his hand. "Good to know."

Adrian smiled and tossed him a bottle of cherry scented hand sanitizer from her purse.

"Nice that you've got this on hand," he said, squeezing a quarter sized blob into his palm and rubbing his hands vigorously until the sanitizer had dried up.

"It's useful with a toddler."

Antonio tossed the bottle back. "I bet."

Adrian dropped her purse to the floor and rubbed her hands in front of the heater.

"Does your boyfriend know you're here?"

"He's not my keeper."

"Nobody could keep you, Adrian."

"No," she admitted after a beat. "I've barely seen him the last couple days."

"Because of me?"

"Because of _me_."

"I didn't come here to uproot your life. Once I flight back on Friday, everything can go back to normal."

"Normal would be you in some imagined plot, six feet under. I can never get back to 'normal' knowing what I know now."

Antonio studied her: the glass in her eyes, the slope in her shoulders, the tremble in her lips. "What are you saying?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_Knead_ the dough, don't beat it within a quarter inch of its life!"

"I'm not a cook!" Ben cried.

"Clearly." Alice shooed her friend away from the cutting board and sprinkled a little extra flour down to work the ramen dough into a stickyless ball the size of her palm. "Get out a fresh dish towel."

Confused, Ben opened the drawer beneath the silverware and procured the dish towel.

"Now run it under the tap and wring it out well."

"Um…O.K." Once completed, Ben turned to Alice and she snatched the towel out of his damp hands. "Wait, ew, why are you wrapping the dough in the towel?"

"It's what you do."

"But it's going to get all hairy."

"Only if you gave me a dirty dish towel. Did you give me a dirty dish towel?"

"No."

"Then stop bellyaching." Alice set the balled up towel onto the cutting board and moved to the sink to wash her hands.

"You're just going to leave it there?"

"For a half an hour." She shook her hands off and patted any excess water on her pants, then set the timer on her cell phone. "Now what?"

Ben shrugged.

"Since it's Throwback Thursday, what about a board game?"

"It's Tuesday, actually, unless it's after midnight already, and no, after the last time Henry and I played Monopoly with you and you won every piece of money in the game and still had us both in debt, I swore off board games with you!"

Alice looked at the floor.

"Sorry," Ben said quickly. "I didn't mean to mention–"

"It's fine. Just because we broke up doesn't mean he's not still a part of your life. I just have to figure out a way to deal with that."

"What about Play-Dough?"

"What?"

"Homemade. The ingredients are already out," he said, swishing his hand towards the flour and salt. "All we're missing is food dye, which we don't really need, it just makes it messier and–"

"More fun." Alice laughed. "Sure, why not? I still remember your dad's face when he found the Play-Dough he'd bought you dried and matted into his brand new carpet."

"There are few times I've ever seen him so red. He looked rarer than freshly ground hamburger."

"And the _day_ you were ungrounded for that, you came over to my house and had the bright idea to make our own Play-Dough and we managed to stain my kitchen counter with food dye and I got grounded for_ two_ weeks."

"To be fair, so did I, it just happened to be another week tacked onto the one I just had after your mom got off the phone with my dad."

Alice ran around her friend to grab the bag of flour. "Okay, but if there's a Play-Dough war and it ends up on the carpet, I'm not sharing the blame this time."

"Then let the war commence."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky thrummed his knuckles against the bathroom door. "Clementine, come out! Talking about this shouldn't be so difficult!"

There was an exasperated sigh from the other side of the door and the lock clicked.

Ricky waited, then twisted the handle and stepped in to find Clementine sitting on the toilet with her knees pulled up to her chest. "I'm not trying to pressure you into anything," he said calmly, "but I thought you wanted this? We've had a lot of heavy making out for weeks now and_ you_ were the one who pointed out your roommates would be gone this week and then invited me over."

"You're right, I did. I enjoy making out with you, Ricky. It's just taking it any further than that…"

"You're not…" He cocked his head to the side. "Are you?"

"What? No! No, far from! It's just…" Clementine sighed heavily. "I don't have sex with anyone before – before they get tested."

"That's all?" Ricky asked, laughing. "Clem, I've been tested. I told you about Zoe and the STI. I haven't had sex since before I got the STI. I'm completely clean, I can even show you the papers from back when the infection cleared up."

"Let me rephrase: I don't have sex until someone has been tested _recently_."

"But I just told you I can show you the paperwork."

"That's not the point."

"You don't trust me?"

Clementine refused to meet his gaze.

"I can't believe this. I seriously can't fucking believe it! You really think I've cheated on you? Or that I continued my manwhoring after I said I didn't?"

"No!"

"That's what it sounds like!"

"Well it's not! You're completely missing the point. I know I'm clean, but I'd get tested too if you asked me to!"

"Well I don't need you to get tested," Ricky snapped back. "And you know why? Because I _trust _you, which is apparently something you can't say about me! Have a nice night." Ricky shouted before slamming the bathroom door behind himself.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Alice ducked under the kitchen table as a blob of homemade Play-Dough careened overhead and splatted against the wall. She wedged off a piece of the dough in her hand, rolled it into a ball against her thigh, and sprung out on the other side of the table, casting the dough ball into the side of Ben's head.

"Alice!" Ben shrieked.

"You've always been exceptionally bad at anything with a ball. Or physical activity in general."

Ben wadded up the remainder of his dough and threw his arm out. As expected, he watched Alice sneak back under the table and without waiting, he ran around to the other side, pulled out a chair, and squashed the dough into the back of her head. "I believe that's what you would call a, 'Psych!'"

"Oh. Oh!" Alice yelled. "Ben, I am going to dismember you!"

Ben jumped back as she shoved another chair out from the table to escape. He ran into the living room and threw up his hands. "Carpet! Carpet!"

"Turning into your father is not going to save you." Alice moved to step into the living room when a shrill noise came from her back pocket. She slouched, dusted half-dried flecks of dough onto her jeans, and pulled out her cell phone. "But that might."

"White flag?" Ben asked. He grabbed one of Mercy's socks from a pile of unfolded laundry on the couch and waved it over his head.

"Truce. I'll roll out the dough if you boil the water."

"Deal."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian lay sprawled on the motel bed, propped up against one pillow with Antonio beside her, propped against the other. She was laughing so hard tears were spurting from her eyes.

"I forgot how hard you worked my stomach muscles," Antonio said, wiping his eyes.

"I've missed this too."

Antonio rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. "So tell me, Ms. Valedictorian, where in New York are you headed?"

"I don't think I am."

Antonio blanked. "What? You've wanted to get as far away from Valley Glen as possible."

"Ben still has another year of high school left."

Antonio nodded. After a stretch of silence he said, "He must've been something pretty special."

"It's complicated."

"That's a movie."

Adrian laughed. "I sort of spiraled after you left."

"How do you mean?"

"I got into some bad stuff."

"Drugs? Alcohol?"

"Guys."

"Guys," Antonio said, blinking.

"Yeah. Does that…does that make you think less of me?"

"Why would I think that?"

"Because I screwed everyone I could get my manicured hands on."

"Girls, too?" he teased.

Adrian shrugged. "Tried it a couple times, but girl on girl sex wasn't really for me. I liked the kissing, but…I don't know, everything else was a bit anticlimactic for my tastes."

"Literally, I take it."

Adrian hit his arm. "Shut up."

"Maybe you just didn't have the right girl."

Adrian smiled. "Maybe. I wouldn't be opposed to it again in the future, but – but why am I even telling you this?"

"Because we've always told each other what's on our minds."

"I guess I'm falling right back into old habits with you, aren't I?"

"If you didn't have Ben, I would say that's not such a bad thing."

"I'm not going to cheat on him."

"You said that earlier."

"I'm just reminding you."

"I'd never ask you to," Antonio replied. "And honestly, I'm a bit offended you would assume that's what I want you to do."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Antonio sat up. "I'm not going to lie, Adrian: I still feel the same way I did about you when we were fifteen. But unlike you, I don't have someone waiting for me back in Tennessee. I get it, midnight's come and gone and I'm left holding the glass slipper. That hurts, but I don't begrudge you for moving on. I'm glad you did. You deserve to be happy."

"But I didn't. I didn't move on, I just filed you away like a cold case, not a closed case."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Watched pots don't boil," Alice said as she ran Ben's knife through the one millimeter thick dough.

"Wrong!" Ben singsonged. "It's boiling. How're the noodles coming?"

"Just about – _ah!_"

"Alice?"

"_Mmmm!"_ Alice winced, hopping back from the cutting board and sucking on her finger.

Ben spun around and noticed blood on the end of the blade. "Let me see."

Alice cringed as she showed Ben her nicked finger.

"It's not that bad," Ben assured. "I've done far worse working in the butcher shop. Here," he said, leading her down the hall to the bathroom. "Run it under cold water."

Alice winced her way through the water while Ben pulled out the peroxide, triple antibiotic, and a band-aid. She sat down on the toilet and held her hand over the sink so he could pour on the peroxide, which sizzled like an egg in a frying pan. She shook her hand but it barely helped.

"Sorry."

"My fault, I should've been paying attention to what I was doing."

"Accidents happen." He dabbed the excess peroxide bubbles away with a cotton ball and applied some ointment.

"Ben."

"Hm?"

"Thanks for inviting me over tonight."

"Thanks for coming."

"No, really: it was nice to spend a night away from my thoughts. From Henry," she said, rolling her eyes. "I don't want to sound like the girl that's always obsessing over a guy—"

"I'm pretty sure you could never be that girl if you tried. Breakups just screw with your head. The deeper in you are, the worse it is."

Alice winced again as Ben wrapped the bandage around her finger. "I still love him," she said. "I've had time to think about it and I know I still love him, I just can't accept what he wants to do. Even if I put aside the fact that I abhor the idea of joining the military after what they did to my people—which, of course, I can't—I'm still not okay with the thought of waiting around for months or years if he's deployed and not knowing if he'll come back. I can't be that girlfriend or fiancé or wife. Or worse, widow."

"I'm not sure if I'm betraying my best friend knowledge by saying this, but he knows that. He understands your reasoning, Alice. He doesn't agree with it, but he understands."

"Oh, please. That's nothing I didn't already know. But it doesn't make it any easier to deal with it."

Ben tossed the wrapper into the trash and made a swishing motion with his hands. "Good as new…or it will be in a couple weeks."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky pulled the milk gallon out of the refrigerator and downed the inch of liquid at the bottom of the container. When he pulled the plastic jug from his face, he saw Shakur watching him from the entrance of the kitchen.

"You're home early."

Ricky dropped the empty jug in the recycling. "It's morning," he said, gesturing to the sunny window behind the sink.

"Yeah," Shakur frowned. "We were expecting you to be gone at least twenty-four hours."

Ricky smirked. "You and Mom had plans?"

"'Had' being the operative word."

"Heather's not here either I take it."

"She spent the night at Lisa's."

Shakur gathered a breakfast tray and a couple of champagne glasses. "And you?"

"I came home last night."

Shakur began to fill the glasses with orange juice. "Something happen between you and Clementine?"

Ricky shrugged. "It's a long story."

"Ah," his father said matter-of-factly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She didn't want to have sex."

Ricky sat down at the table with a growl. "I'm an adult."

"I didn't say you weren't. But if I may: why?" Shakur pulled out the eggs and a frying pan.

Ricky shook his head. "It was stupid."

"Was it?"

"She – she said," his voice dropped low, "she wanted me to get tested! I told her I had been and I could prove it and she said she wanted me to do it again. Those tests aren't fun and they aren't free."

"Can you prove it?"

"Of course I can!"

The egg sizzled from the frying pan. "How?"

"I just need to find the paperwork—"

"But how do you prove you haven't been infected between those tests and now?"

"She should trust me!"

Shakur silently salted his egg.

"I can't believe you're taking her side. We've been dating for nearly three months and we've known each other for _years_."

"You knew each other for a time as children and recently reconnected after years with no contact, during which you slept with a plethora of women and even thought you might have impregnanted one of them for several months. Now you've begun a fresh relationship after a period of celibacy following the contraction of an STI and you want your girlfriend to simply take your word that her life won't be flipped upside down after a single roll in the hay. Now tell me: who's acting like the irresponsible one?"

Ricky growled under his breath.

Shakur slid a sunnyside up egg onto a China plate, took a small vase out of the cupboard, and picked up a single red rose that was hidden behind the toaster and dropped it into the vase. He picked up the tray and paused halfway out of the kitchen. "Trust has to be built, son. Someone has to start the foundation."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Alice came out of the hallway wearing the clothes she'd worn the night before, but her hair was wet and mussed as she dried it with a towel. "Thanks for letting me use your shower. My mom would've looked at me funny if I walked in this morning with dried dough clumped in my hair."

"No problem," Ben laughed. "And I packed half the ramen to go while you were in there." He proudly held up a Tupperware container with ramen and broth. "Just make sure to get the container back to me at some point."

"Thanks," Alice said, taking the Tupperware.

"How's the finger?" Ben asked, noticing a fresh band-aid.

"It stings but I'll live."

"Don't keep it wrapped up all the time," he warned. "That'll keep it moist and it won't have time to get air and heal."

"Sounds like you've been hanging out with Grace lately," Alice teased.

"Actually, not too much, since, well…"

"Sorry."

Ben shook his head. "You sure you have to leave so soon? I have the day off."

"Plans with my parents," Alice sighed.

"Tell them I said 'hi.'"

"I'll preemptively tell you right now: they say 'hi' back."

Ben grinned and hugged his friend. "I'll see you later. Thanks for last night, it was fun, finger cutting and carpet cleaning aside."

Alice nodded. "We should do it again sometime. I forgot what being a kid was like."

"Yeah." He hugged her again. "I'll see you later. Drive safe."

Alice waved on her way out the door.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

A tart-sweet smell tickled Adrian's nostrils. She cracked an eye open and found the limited space beside her empty. She kicked out her limbs and pushed herself into a sitting position, where she spotted two cups of coffee in a holder and a pink box. Her stomach growled.

"You never used to be one for sleeping in."

Adrian saw Antonio peeking out from the bathroom and smiled. She shook off the warm blanket that Antonio must have covered her in and opened the box to find a dozen lemon filled doughnuts. Her stomach growled again.

"Still your favorite, right?"

"When did you leave to get these?"

"There's a doughnut place a few blocks down and I'm a speedy jogger; took part in a lot of cancer walk-a-thons."

Adrian bit into one of the doughnuts and melted at the tangy sweet flavor in the middle. A blob stuck to the corner of her mouth and she licked it away with relish. "How much do I owe you?"

"I didn't get them all for you, you know."

"So, half?"

"It's on me."

"Are you sure?"

"Stop acting silly and eat your breakfast."

Adrian sat back on the bed. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten. Why, do you have to be somewhere?"

"Not until three."

"What happens at three?"

"Work."

"And where does someone like you work?"

"An ice cream shop."

"That's surprising."

"That's who was hiring." Adrian polished off the doughnut and grabbed another. "How about you? Any job?"

"I got laid off two months ago. The owners sold the copy center I was working at and the new management brought in an all new crew. We were invited to resubmit our applications, but I never heard anything back. I've since been volunteering full time at a dog sanctuary."

"Still don't have one of your own?"

"The people we rent from want an outrageous deposit for pets. The sanctuary gets me my dog fix, the only downside being I want to take every one of them home."

"Still living with your mom?"

"Yeah, is that weird for a nineteen-year-old?"

"No, I hear more people are living with their parents longer and longer these days."

Adrian took a swig of coffee and shuddered.

"Too hot?"

"Too bitter. Plus a mouthful of grounds."

"First time I bought coffee there and apparently the last," Antonio noted.

"If you don't have a job, how did you afford to fly down here?"

"I built up a nice little savings when I was working."

"Are you sure you don't want me to pay for half the food?"

"I'm sure. End of."

"I should probably go. I need to shower and get ready for work."

"You can show—yeah, yeah, you're right, you should probably go."

Adrian smiled. "I had a good night."

"Me too."

"Maybe we should do something again before you fly back?"

"Whatever you want."

Adrian stood awkwardly between Antonio and the door, half wanting to lean in and hug him, and half fearing what would happen if she did. Finally, she grabbed her purse and unlocked the door. "See you."

"See you, Adrian."


	4. Cries And Byes

**A/N: **This chapter is literally twenty-one pages long. I tinkered and tinkered with it.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Cries And Byes**

"Do you want to do it one at a time or—"

"Together," Ricky interrupted. "Just like we did when we went to get tested."

Clementine smiled and turned the white envelope with Ricky's name and address over. The edge of her nail glided halfway beneath the flap and she stopped, laughing.

"What?" Ricky asked, the envelope flap in his hand crudely ripped like a jagged cliff.

"I feel like Charlie opening the Golden Ticket."

"Golden Ticket?"

"Don't tell me you've never seen _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_!"

"Of course I have. But not the remake."

"Well _don't_. I love me some Johnny Depp, but he's got nothing on Gene Wilder."

"Pretty much what I figured when I see the trailers. But that is beside the point. What does the Golden Ticket have to do with STD results?"

Clementine shook her head. "I thought it was obvious."

"Obviously not."

"We're about to open up a whole new world."

"Oh come on," Ricky groaned. "You're ruining it."

"_I'm_ ruining? You're being the romantic killjoy."

"Opening these isn't going to change anything between us."

Clementine glared. "Sex always changes things."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"We're still going to be the same people we've been, in the same relationship, for the past four months. Sex is just another level."

"Yeah, a _huge_ level. Look, I've tried friends with benefits before and I found out it wasn't for me because I can't compartmentalize the physical and the emotional."

"But we're not friends with benefits."

Clementine used her right index finger to point to the pad of her left. "Point," she said, and glided her finger over Ricky's head.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't see it as life changing as you do."

"Maybe you've become desensitized," Clementine snapped.

"Excuse me?"

"I—"

"Yeah, I've had sex with more girls than I can count," Ricky spat. "Sex was the easy part. The feelings are what I've always struggled with. I'm not saying that it can't be emotional, but I am saying that how I feel about you isn't going to change whether we do it or not." Ricky set the half torn envelope between them and got up from the floor.

"Ricky—"

Ricky shrugged on his jacket. "I'll see you tomorrow at my not-such-a-surprise party."

Clementine scrambled to her feet. "Wait, don't g—"

But Ricky shut the door on her plea.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

In the silence of his bedroom, Ben heard the key in the front door and a few minutes later he heard the click of Adrian's heels on the kitchen floor. He crawled out of bed and padded down the dark hallway. At the end he peered around, squinting at first from the light. His eyes adjusted enough that he could make out Adrian standing at the table, frantically looking through the mail he'd carried in when he got home.

Ignorant of his presence, Adrian slapped the mail back on the table and melted into one of the chairs. She folded her arms atop the table and dropped her face into them.

Ben slunk back into the shadows of the hallway. He'd only been gone minutes, but his covers were cold when he finally climbed back into them. Although he shut his eyes, he wasn't asleep. He counted the seconds in his head and finally fell asleep without Adrian ever joining him on the other side of the mattress.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace stood in the darkness of the upstairs bathroom, gulping down a glass of tap water. She turned sluggishly to step into the hallway and a shadow passed over her. Before she knew what she was doing, she screamed and the glass slipped from her hands and shattered on the bathroom tile.

Another scream joined Grace's, followed by a piercing of light.

Grace shielded her eyes.

"Grace?"

"Amy?"

The blonde peeked out from behind her arms, wincing at the hall light. "You just about scared me into an early grave."

"Sorry," Amy Juergens laughed. "I just needed to use the bathroom. Don't you have your own?"

"Yeah, but I was out of allergy tablets so I came to get some of my mom's."

"That explains that," the brunette said, gesturing to the shattered glass.

The door to Grace's former bedroom popped open and Ashley Juergens poked her head out, squinty eyed in the light. "Some people are trying to sleep you know."

Amy waved her hand dismissively. "Go back to bed."

"Easier done if there wasn't shrieking outside the bedroom door."

Moose barked from somewhere inside the room.

"Yeah," Ashley said over her shoulder. "Tell me about it."

"It was a misunderstanding," Grace said. "Sorry for waking you."

Ashley glanced towards Kathleen and George's door. "Did Dad ever get back?"

"I didn't see their car in the driveway when I came in."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "What's the use of court ordered visitation if he's not even going to be here?"

"He was here all day," Amy argued. "So he and Kathleen wanted to go out for the night. What do you care?"

Ashley shut the door with a grunt.

"I'll get the broom," Amy said. She turned away and quickly turned back. "Where is the broom?"

Grace laughed. "I'll show you."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

_Bjjjjjjjjt!_

_Bjjjjjjjjt!_

_Bjjjjjjjjt!_

Ricky awoke to the tongue of a party whistle slapping him in the nose. He grabbed at it twice, managing to latch onto and tear it in half the second time.

However, his mattress screamed as Heather cannon balled herself onto the bed beside him and shot off two party poppers that unleashed a cascade of glitter, ribbons, and twin plumes of smoke.

"I hate you."

Heather audibly smacked Ricky's rear.

Ricky shot up like a spring. "Heather!"

"Where do you think you're going?" she grinned. "If memory serves, I've got eighteen more plus one to grow on!"

"Get out of my bed."

Heather scooped up some of the glitter from the party poppers and blew it off her hands at him. "Aw, did the birthday boy get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"You know you're going to vacuum that up, don't you?"

"But it's so purdy."

Ricky pointed to the stairs.

"You're so mean, Bro." Heather crawled off the bed in a mock pout. "What's eating you?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

_Ah-choo!_

"Allergy pills not working I take it?"

Grace wiped her enflamed nose on a napkin. "Guess not." She took a bite of her toast and red raspberry jam, but spat it back into her napkin.

Amy folded her arms. "Ew."

"My taste buds are off." Grace dumped the remainder of the toast into the trash. "Ugh, my sinuses are so plugged up!"

"So you're probably not going to Ricky's party today?"

"Huh?" Grace mumbled, dabbing her watery eyes. "Oh, right. No. The time clashes with summer school. Besides, I think it's just a family thing anyway. Except for Ashley and Clemen–" Grace fell foreword with the strength of another sneeze.

Amy grabbed another napkin and held it an arm's length out.

"Thanks," Grace sniffed.

"Oh. I heard Ashley talking to Dad about dropping her off upstairs. I just figured you were going too."

"No."

"Probably a good thing," Amy laughed. "You look like you're crying."

"Oh God," Grace groaned. She dabbed her wet cheeks. "I hope whatever's in the air passes quickly, I can't stand this!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey, Bunny, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Bunny set her clipboard onto a stack of beef jerky and narrowed her eyes at the teenager. "Make it snappy, Ben. Inventory isn't going to calculate itself."

Ben offered up his paycheck. "I went to cash this on my way to work this morning and I noticed there was an error."

Bunny grabbed the check and looked it over. "Where?"

"The amount."

"Are you telling me my math's wrong?"

Ben squirmed. "It's more than I earned," he explained. "I only make ten an hour."

"And now you make eleven."

"What?"

"If I'm going to have to repeat myself every sentence, maybe you don't deserve the raise after all."

Ben accepted the check with a shaky hand. "I got a raise?"

"Your father didn't tell you?"

Ben shook his head.

Bunny shrugged. "Must've slipped his mind. Yes, as of July tenth, you're making eleven."

"But…"

"But what?"

Ben shook his head. "Nothing," he muttered. "Never mind. Thanks, Bunny."

"Don't thank me, I didn't earn your raise."

Ben smiled to himself as he headed back behind the counter.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

_SpongeBob SquarePants_ was in the middle of its theme song and Heather was draped over the couch with a Hungry-Man TV dinner on her chest.

"Hey," Ricky said, stepping in front of the television to block his foster sister's view. "Where is every one?"

"Work. Durrr. Now move outta the way."

"It's my birthday," Ricky said without moving.

"Hey, yeah, good memory from, oh," Heather looked at a non-existent watch on her wrist, "four hours ago. Now mooooove, the episode's starting!"

"They can't be at work," Ricky argued. "They always take the day off for my birthday and try to throw me a surprise party."

"You said you didn't want a surprise party."

"So?"

Heather used her bare foot to point to her cell phone charging on the coffee table. "Call them at work if you want to complain, but it ain't my problem."

"They're not at work," Ricky said again. To prove Heather wrong, he pulled his own cell phone out of his back pocket and dialed his mother's office number. He turned the speaker on after the second ring.

"Valley Glen Social Services, how may I help you?"

"Miranda," Ricky said coolly. "It's Ricky Underwood. Is my mom there today?"

"She is, but she's in a meeting right now. Should I have her call you back?"

"Yeah, why don't you do that?" Ricky said smoothly.

"All right, I'll have her get back to you as soon as possible."

"Thanks."

Ricky hung up. "Now watch this." He dialed his father's number.

"Cutting Edge Cardiology, Cho speaking."

"Cho, it's Dr. Shakur's son. Is he available?"

"He's in surgery right now, but can I take a message?"

"No, that's fine, just let him know I called."

"Thanks."

Heather sucked the last of the mashed potatoes off her spoon, unimpressed. "So they're both in the office."

"Nope. The staff is covering for them."

"Suspicious much?"

Ricky's cell phone began to ring and he looked down at it smugly and flashed the caller I.D. at Heather: Valley Glen Social Services. He swiped the answer option. "Hey, Miranda."

"Don't you mean 'Mother'?"

Ricky blanched.

Heather smirked.

"Mom?"

"You sound surprised. Weren't you the one who called me?"

"Y-yeah," he murmured. "I just…I wasn't expecting you to get back to me so soon."

"My meeting ended a little sooner than I anticipated," Margaret said sourly. "Looks like I'm scheduling a home visit."

"Oh," Ricky said. "Sorry."

"It's fine; part of the job. What did you need?"

"Uh…I – I just wanted to remind you that Clementine and I have plans tonight, so in case you were planning anything, don't."

"Don't worry, your father nor I had forgotten that you said you had plans with Clementine. Is that all?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Okay. Have a good time, Ricky."

"Yeah," he muttered again before the line went dead.

"Not at work, huh?"

"She didn't even wish me a 'happy birthday.'"

"Well I hope you're satisfied enough to go away now."

Instead, Ricky plopped down beside the redhead and stole one of the barbequed chicken patties from her Hungry-Man tray.

"Hey."

"Shut up, it's my birthday."

Heather kicked him in the thigh.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"You look like you're about to lose an arm over there."

Adrian looked up from the table. Her ten minute break was nearly over, but The Scoop was having a slow business day. "Just writing a letter."

"I noticed." Amy took advantage of the lack of customers to lean over the counter. "You've been writing a lot of them this past month. In fact, you seem to spend pretty much every break writing."

Adrian put her pencil down. "Yeah," she sighed. "I kind of reconnected with an old…friend."

"Oh. Okay. I just haven't seen someone write that much since after Jimmy and I started dating. I mean, we texted and called a lot too, but there's something different about having a physical piece of someone in your hand, isn't there?" Amy returned to wiping down the counter, softly humming to herself seemingly without further interest in her coworker's activities.

Adrian, on the other hand, stared at the letter on the table that began _Dear Antonio_, followed by three pages of detailed words in her finest penmanship. The note crackled as she folded it into thirds and tucked it into her purse.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Heather lay on her back, with her bare feet in her foster brother's lap and her head turned to the television. _SpongeBob_ was no longer playing, instead it was an episode of _Boy Meets World_. The doorbell rang and Heather nudged Ricky with her big toe.

"What?"

"Get the door."

"No, you get it."

"Margaret said someone was supposed to come about the sprinklers."

"So she told _you_ to get it."

"No, she said, 'Keep an eye out for the guy coming to take a look at the sprinkler system.'" She stabbed him with her big toe again. "You're closer to the door."

"Your feet are on me."

Heather pulled her legs into a fetal position and smiled lazily.

Ricky growled and stomped to the door. He peered through the peek hole and immediately opened the door. "Mom!"

"Happy Birthday!" Nora Underwood exclaimed.

"I didn't know you were coming." He stepped outside to hug her and was immediately flanked on either side by Margaret and Shakur, who had been hiding outside of the purview of the peek hole.

"Surprise!" they chorused.

Ricky shook his head. "You all suck," he said, taking turns hugging his parents. "And you called me from work!"

"Actually, Miranda did," Margaret winked. "As soon as you called, she called me and three-wayed you back."

Ricky rolled his eyes. "Thanks for letting me know," he said. "Now you can't try that in the future." He turned walked back inside. "Were you in on this too?" But to his surprise, Heather was no longer lounging on the couch.

"Well what are we dawdling around in here for?" Nora asked. "I want cake!"

"No one made a—" Ricky stopped in his tracks as Ashley emerged from the kitchen, balancing a cake with nineteen candles on one hand like a professional waitress.

Heather bounced out behind Ashley. "I let her in from the back when you were answering the door."

Ricky shook his head. "I can't trust any of you."

Heather threw her arm around his neck. "Admit it: you love us!"

Ashley smirked. "Make a wish."

Ricky inhaled deeply and blew out all nineteen candles in a single breath. All around him "Happy Birthday" began, but he couldn't help the hallow feeling in the pit of his stomach at Clementine's absence.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

A Nick Jr. commercial was playing when Grace walked through the front door. She dropped her backpack and kicked off one shoe, sneezing halfway through wiggling out of the second.

"Grace!" Amy called. "Come here!"

Grace found a ratty tissue in her pocket and wiped her nose. Little cuts at the top curve of her nostrils were burning each time she blew. She found Amy in the living room and wiped her teary eyes. "What's going on?"

Amy excitedly pointed to Christian. "Look at him!"

Grace followed the brunette's outstretched hand and saw her son in the middle of his banging some alphabet blocks together. "Yeah," she said dismissively. "He really likes those."

"No," Amy insisted. _"Look!"_

Grace looked again, annoyed. She'd seen her son play with his toys enough and she guessed it simply didn't hold the same magic it did for people who weren't around babies all the time. But then she noticed it: her son, _sitting up_. "Oh my God!"

"I know!" Amy squealed. "I saw him doing it earlier today and I had to do a double take!" She handed Grace her cell phone. "Here, look at this. It's not the first time, but it was one the only one I managed to get on video."

The blonde pressed the play button and found a ten second video of Christian pushing himself away from a pillow he was leaning on and sitting upright without help from anyone or anything else. She covered her mouth in pride. She handed the phone back to Amy and knelt down beside her son. "Mommy's so proud of you!"

Christian gurgled and ignored his mother.

Grace grabbed a handful of the blocks and rearranged them to spell out _BIG BOY_.

Christian attempted to imitate his mother, but crudely aligned the blocks to spell _XKVFLO_.

Grace kissed Christian's downy blonde head and looked gratefully at Amy. "Thank you for recording that."

"No problem."

"Were Mom and George here to see it?"

"Nah, Ashley left with them earlier. They said they were dropping her off and going out for another date, hence Moose and I babysitting." Amy gave the sleeping dog's head a good natured scrub and Moose made an approving noise in his sleep.

"So what else can you do that you're hiding from Mommy?" Grace asked, grinning.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The birthday cake was over half gone, mini paper plates and plastic forks with frosting and crumb remnants were scattered over the living room intermixed with plastic cups of juice in varying amounts, and wrapping paper had been pushed into the shape of a small mountain.

"Any word from Clementine?" Nora asked jovially.

"Huh?"

Nora looked around at the suddenly non-smiling faces. "What?" she blushed. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Do you all know something we don't?" Ricky asked.

"Only that Clementine called your mother and I earlier to let us know that she might not be able to make it to the party due to being called in to cover for someone at work," Shakur announced.

"We just assumed she'd told you as well," Margaret hastily added.

"And you all assumed we had some sort of fight," Ricky sighed. "Well, for your information—"

_Ding-dong!_

"Maybe that's her now?" Heather asked, leaping up to get the door.

Ricky felt everyone's eyes turn in the direction of the door.

"Ta-da!"

Clementine's face was red. "Sorry I'm late," she said, avoiding Ricky's eyes.

"You're just in time," Margaret said. "We have one more present and then you two can get on with your plans." She got up from the loveseat she was sharing with her husband and disappeared upstairs.

Nora squeezed over on the couch to make room for Clementine to sit next to her son.

"Thank you," Clementine said. She pressed a chaste kiss to Ricky's cheek.

Ricky couldn't help but feel the coldness on her lips. He looked up when Margaret returned and handed him a bag overflowing with tissue paper. He pulled it out and reached inside to find an unmarked yellow folder. He looked curiously at his parents, who were holding hands, and peeled the flap back. His breath caught in his throat when he saw was what inside: "Adoption papers."

"Happy belated graduation," Margaret said.

Nora smiled. "Congratulations. You couldn't have picked better."

Ricky got up and hugged both his parents—officially—for the first time. He blinked away the emotion threatening to fall from his eyes.

"You didn't see the best part," Ashley said. "Turn the stack over."

Confused, Ricky did as instructed. Although there was a staple in the top left corner, the stack was thick and held together with two paperclips. He realized, once he'd turned them over, the reason was because there were actually two documents held together, back-to-back.

"Ta-da," Heather said quietly.

"Of course you'd steal my limelight by getting adopted too," Ricky laughed.

Heather shrugged. "What can I say? It's what I do, Bro." Heather poked him in the leg with her still bare toe. "And now when I say that, it's not pre-empted by 'foster' anymore, it's official!"

Ricky plunked Heather on the skull with the adoption papers. "I love you too, Sis."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ben was washing his hands in the hall bathroom when he heard the front door open and close. He dried them off quickly and hurried down the hallway, pausing at the end when he saw Adrian once again hunched over the table, rifling through the mail. He sighed and crossed his arms to wait for her.

Bills, bills, junk. Adrian pushed away the mail and turned away with disappointment. She jumped at the sight of her boyfriend standing in the mouth of the hallway, but didn't say anything.

"Hey."

"Hey," Adrian said quietly.

"So something happened at work today."

"Oh?" Adrian moved into the kitchen for a glass of water.

Ben followed her and offered a bank receipt.

"What's this?"

"I cashed my paycheck on my lunch."

"And?"

"Notice anything?"

"Not really, no."

"I got a raise."

Adrian looked again. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well, it's not that much."

"One-eighty more a month."

"Regular or summer hours?"

"Summer."

"Oh, well, whoop-dee-do."

"Come on, Adrian! I earned a raise, can't you be even a little excited for me?"

"You just turned eighteen less than two weeks ago and our rent went up by six-hundred dollars. Excuse me for not jumping for joy that you got a raise that's not even going to cover a third of that. During _summer_ hours, no less!"

Adrian slapped her glass down so hard Ben picked it up after she walked out of the kitchen to make sure it hadn't chipped or cracked.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I'm here to check in," Clementine said. "Tristesse."

The desk clerk ran his fingers over his keyboard. "All right," he said. "It looks like everything was paid for online, so here are your room cards."

"Thank you," Clementine said, pocketing one and offering the other to her boyfriend.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Not that I can think of."

The desk clerk nodded. "Enjoy your stay."

Ricky squeezed Clementine's hand as they walked away from the desk. "Which room are we in?"

"One-o'-seven. It's near the pool and hot tub."

They walked around outside in silence, passing the aforementioned aquatics. When they finally reached the room, Ricky grabbed Clementine's hand before she could swipe the card. "I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight."

"I almost didn't."

"I'm sorry. You know I have a convoluted history with sex."

"I'm sorry too. I wasn't thinking about that. You were so mad when you left I wasn't even sure if you wanted me at your party."

"Of course I did. I've been looking forward to this all month. Spending my birthday with you, not the sex."

Clementine tangled her arms around his neck. "Me too."

Ricky took the card from her hand and swiped the door. He kissed her as they tumbled inside. "We never did look at those results. Did you bring them?"

"Yeah."

"You want to open them now?"

"I don't think I need to."

"Really?"

Clementine set her purse on the floor. "You took the test, after all."

"And you were right to make me. Which is why I think we should."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I want you to go into this with your mind at ease." He handed Clementine her purse.

"That means a lot, Ricky." Clementine pulled the half opened envelopes from her purse, handing Ricky hers and taking his. She sat down beside him on the bed. "Ready?"

Ricky nodded and together they tore the remainder of the envelopes and unfolded the results. "Well?"

"Clean."

Ricky grinned. "You too."

After a moment, Clementine took the results from him and returned them to her purse. "Now what?"

Ricky kissed her neck. "You know, I've been saying a lot of stupid things recently…" He laid his girlfriend onto her back and unbuttoned her blouse, giving one kiss for each button until he reached her belly button. He lifted her knee-length skirt, draping it over her bare belly. "So why don't I fix that and put my mouth to good use for a change?"

Clementine leisurely shut her eyes as her boyfriend's face disappeared between her thighs and grabbed fistfuls of the hotel comforter in delight.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace shuffled into the kitchen and stopped when she saw her mother hanging over the dripping coffee maker. "You look almost as bad as me."

Kathleen Bowman rubbed her temples. "Long night."

"Do you mean 'hangover'?"

"Possibly."

"Mom!"

"It was fun," Kathleen defended. "I just forgot how much it stunk afterward. George and I haven't partied that hard in years."

"You two sure have been enjoying yourselves lately."

Kathleen smiled and followed it up with a wince. "He's been layering on the romance lately."

"Hard partying is romantic?" Grace asked disbelievingly.

"Depends on the person," Kathleen shrugged. "What about you, what's got you feeling down?"

"I think something's in bloom and nothing I've tried helps."

"Your grandmother used to have allergies like that."

"Which one?"

"The one we don't talk to," Kathleen grumbled.

"What did she do about it?"

"Complain." The coffee maker beeped. "Thank you, Lord!" She hurriedly poured herself a cup and drank it black.

Grace shuddered. "Well hey, I wanted to let you know: Christian is now sitting up all by himself. Amy even got it on video!"

"That's wonderful!" Kathleen gushed. "It seems like just yesterday he was snuggled up in his bassinet. Oh, you kids grow up so fast. It's nice that we have technology these days that allows us to catch all those little moments." Kathleen inhaled the steam from her coffee. "I remember when you started walking. You were on the early end of the spectrum and I called your dad at work to let him know. He was_ so_ upset he hadn't been there for your first steps."

Grace wiped her eyes, this time not from her allergies.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Clementine awoke with her head on Ricky's bare chest. She moved slightly so she could kiss one of his abs.

Ricky twirled Clementine's hair around his fingers. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up, it's almost noon."

"I'm awake and still exhausted. Please tell me I wore you out as much as you did me."

"You can rest assured."

"I'm starving."

"Room service?"

"That's expensive."

"I have birthday money to blow."

Clementine stretched beneath the covers and rolled onto her own pillow. "Then maybe we could go for a swim?"

"They say you shouldn't eat on a full stomach."

Clementine kissed her boyfriend's collarbone. "Maybe we'll have to work off breakfast and then go for a swim?"

"I was thinking the same thing."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Mercy's pigtails sailed behind her head like ribbons as she ran circles around the front yard. A pink Barbie airplane was in her hands and her Queen Kida and Princess Jasmine dolls were seated in the pilot and co-pilot seats.

Ben was trying not to laugh at his daughter's merriment so it wouldn't distract from the home video he was making on his handheld video camera. "Mercy!" he hollered. "Where are Kida and Jasmine flying to?"

"Illy!" Mercy yelled.

"And what are they going to see in Italy?"

"_Famiglia!"_

The mailwoman pulled alongside the curb and got out with a stack of mail.

Ben set his camera on the tripod and walked out the gate, down to the mailbox.

"Cute kid," the mailwoman commented.

"Yeah," Ben beamed. "Long route?"

"You're about midway."

"Oh, sorry."

"Eh," the woman sighed. "At least it pays the rent."

"Tell me about it."

She nodded. "Have a good afternoon."

"You too." Ben waited until she pulled away to get the mail out of the box. He sifted through it and the second to the last letter was to Adrian, with a return address in Tennessee. He picked it out of the pile and tucked it under his arm on his way back into the yard.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Glinting high heels and polished dress shoes, too many to count. They marched back and forth like the sound of invading armies. Grace looked up from her summer school homework periodically to watch them. She sat outside the office until nearly closing, just waiting for the right person to emerge. At ten after five, he did: "Mr. Enriquez!"

Ruben nearly tripped over his own pair of polished dress shoes. "Ms. Bowman!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Are you all right?"

"Yes and no. I need to speak with you. Privately."

He unlocked his office and waved her inside. "What's the matter?" he asked with fatherly concern.

Grace locked the door as he sat down. "It's about Adrian."

Ruben leaned forward. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine. So's Mercy."

Ruben craned his neck in confusion.

Grace settled into the seat on the other side of his desk and smoothed her skirt nervously. "I came home yesterday to discover my son had one of his firsts without me." She paused and gauged his expression: still confused. Baffled or befuddled, more appropriately. "And I realized it must be agonizing to go an entire eighteen years never witnessing any of your child's firsts."

"Ms. Bowman," Ruben said patiently, "I'm not sure what spurred this on, but I'm a very busy man. What does any of this have to do with Adrian?"

"I thought that was obvious," Grace replied matter-of-factly. "It's the same reason you chose to go to her graduation, isn't it? It's the same reason there was an extra 'D' on the 'D.A.' when you sent Adrian that bassinet for her daughter…your granddaughter."

Ruben stiffened. "A typo," he argued. "I'm a happily married man—"

"Many times over. I Googled you. Moreover, I was there. In the hallway during graduation. I heard you and Ms. Lee arguing."

Ruben wilted. "Whatever you think you heard—"

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Enriquez, so don't play me for a fool. I've been holding onto this for over a month. I thought that maybe you were just working up the courage to tell Adrian yourself, but you haven't and I'm starting to think that if you were, you've talked yourself out of it. But in the event that I'm wrong and showing up to watch her graduate was a one-time thing, I've got news for you: it's not. You _are_ going to tell her."

"And if I don't, you will?"

"I'm her best friend. I have to."

"She's gotten along nineteen years without me."

"Which is a mystery unto itself. I found your date of birth, you're the same age as Ms. Lee, which means you were just like us: a teenager when your child was born. As far as I know, you're no Grant Volberg, so I can't figure out why you weren't involved in her life. But frankly, I don't care. As long as you fix it and fix it now."

"It's not that simple, Grace."

"I think it is." Grace heaved her book bag onto her shoulder. "You have two weeks."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

On Friday evening Ben planted himself on the couch with the television on after he'd put his daughter to bed. The Food Network was on, but it was background noise: Ben was too busy thinking about what Adrian was going to do when she got home. The hours passed and Ben almost nodded off himself when he heard his girlfriend's key in the front door. He resisted the urge to turn around when he heard her come up and judging by the sudden silence of her high heels, he imagined she was surprised to find him up and watching television when she knew he had work in the morning.

Nevertheless, her footwork resumed and he heard her move straight to the kitchen table, rooting through the Friday mail delivery. He heard the bills hit the table loudly, much more so than they had all week, and was sure he heard Adrian suppress a small scream at the back of her throat. Just as he heard her padded footsteps reach the hallway, he asked without turning around: "Are you looking for this?"

Silence.

Ben held up the letter, still without turning to look at her.

Adrian stalked into the living room and tore the letter from his hand.

Ben allowed his hand to drop into his lap, noting the fresh paper cut on his finger.

"This is addressed to me, why do you have it?"

"It came on Wednesday."

"_Wednesday?!"_ Adrian snarled.

Ben finally stood up to meet her vicious gaze. "You barely spoke to me for a week after graduation, even on Father's Day. Then you come home and spend the next month feverishly going through the mail Monday through Saturday. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on."

"We write letters, it's not a crime! Opening someone else's mail, however—"

"I never opened it; I never opened anything. But he did—he opened this whole can of worms by coming back into your life and you're keeping it open by continuing to keep in contact with him."

"He was my best friend!"

"And you loved him!" Ben's resolve finally cracked in the form of a tear careening down his cheek. "You – you still love him," Ben said, his voice breaking.

Adrian crushed the letter in her hands. Her mascara began to run. "What do you want me to do?!"

"I want you to choose me! I want you remember how much you love me and _choose_ me!"

Adrian screamed; a bloodied, tortured shriek that sent both their eardrums abuzz. "You don't get it! I haven't forgotten, Ben: I know exactly how in love with you I am. But – but I_ remember_ how in love with him I am too."

Sobbing began to pour from the nursery, Adrian's scream having woken Mercy.

Ben shook his head. "I'm going to comfort our daughter," he whispered. "I guess you can stay out here and read your love letter."

Adrian heard the door to Mercy's room shut and her legs buckled beneath her. She fell between the coffee table and the couch. The envelope she clutched Antonio's letter in was moist with the sweat from her hand and her stomach churned like a boat amidst a midnight storm.


	5. Past Mystery

**A/N: **I still have two readers out there! Thank you! :D So, this is a chapter I've had the basic concept of for a long time. It didn't turn out quite the way I initially thought, but hopefully you enjoy it. (Please remember that I use digital translations for my Spanish dialogue because I don't speak the language myself, so if you see some dialogue that's confusing/stilted, that would be the reason.)

_**Turning Tables**_

**Past Mystery**

_Seventeen-year-old Cindy pulled the collar of her blouse over the bridge of her nose. The scent of greasy patacóns and hot hogao was wafting under her bedroom door. As a child she used to loved the sweet fried plantains dipped in a lush sauce of onions, garlic, tomato, cumin, salt, and pepper but during the first two trimesters of her pregnancy the smells had come to make her violently ill. Although the morning sickness had thankfully gone by her third trimester, the damage was done: she could no longer sniff hogao and patacóns without her mind being assaulted by images of being hunched over the toilet bowl and violently expelling what felt like every organ in her body._

"_¡Cindy!" Jimena Lee hollered from the kitchen. "¡La cena esta lista!"_

_Cindy bit her lip to keep from lashing out. The emotional art of her felt like her mother was purposely making hogao and patacóns for dinner just to punish her for getting pregnant. The logical part reminded her that the ingredients were within their threadbare household budget, a budget that the birth of her child would soon be ripping a gaping hole into._

"_Cindy!" Jimena shouted again._

_The teenager looked at the closed history book on the bed beside her. "¡Estoy estudiando!" Cindy waited until she heard her mother's footsteps thump-thumping toward her room and quickly picked up the textbook, turned it to a random page, and balanced it on her full moon shaped belly._

_The door swung open and despite being half as tall and half as wide as the doorway, the miniature Colombian woman seemed to fill the entire space. "Pasé toda la noche hacienda la cena. ¡Usted va a comer!"_

"_¡No!" Cindy snapped. "Me dijo cue tengo la tarea y no tengo hambre de todos modos." She waved the history textbook for emphasis._

_Jimena scowled and huffed. If steam could have funneled out of her nose it would have._

_Cindy silently returned her eyes to her textbook, but did not actually read the words. She was keenly aware of her mother's eyes on her until the older woman stalked off, not even bothering to slam the door. Cindy drew in quick, small breaths; her room was now flooded with the scent of patacóns and hogao and she found herself wondering again if her mother had done it on purpose._

_Cursing to herself, Cindy struggled to sit up and wriggle off her bed to shut the door herself. As the clicked into place, a sharp pain stabbed her belly. Her eyes watered and Cindy braced her back against the door and gripped her protruding stomach._

"It's time. Adrian, wake up."

"Go away, Ben."

"You need to get up."

Adrian rolled over on the couch and buried her nose into the crack between the seat and back cushions.

"Adrian," he tried again.

"Leave me alone!"

"No," Ben said stubbornly. "I'm not going to leave you alone until you get up."

Adrian sat up, her hair a bedhead horror and her eyes ready to shoot lasers. "What is so damn important?" she barked.

"You need to take a shower, we need to leave in thirty minutes."

"Excuse me?"

Ben pointed to the hallway. "Shower. Now."

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on."

Ben shook his head. "Not yet."

"Then I'm not going anywhere."

"Come on," Ben pleaded. "Alice is going to be here soon to babysit."

"Alice? Why?"

"Because we need this."

"Need _what?_"

Ben knelt on the floor beside the couch. "Look," he said sincerely. "I know things have been hard lately, especially the last two days, but please, just _trust_ me, okay?"

"After you ran around hiding my mail from me?" Adrian bit back.

Ben hung his head. "That was wrong."

"At least you're finally admitting it."

"Please," he begged.

Adrian pushed Ben out of the way. "You better have a damn good reason for waking me up so early on a Sunday!"

"I do," Ben whispered to himself as Adrian stomped down the hallway. "I promise."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

_The sun glared onto the UCLA campus to the point of the air rippling by a barbeque pit. Margaret Marjani pushed open a door with her shoulder, her arms too full of textbooks to do it themselves. Her long, jet black hair was woven into tiny, meticulous cornrows and the cornrows pulled back into one high ponytail that still swung back and forth at her hips like the pendulum on a grandfather clock._

"_Hold the door!"_

_Margaret groaned and struggled to maintain the books in her arms, cursing herself for losing her book bag._

"_Thanks, Marge."_

"_Margaret," she corrected with a scowl._

_With her back to Margaret, Lucy Kane didn't notice the scowl, nor pick up on the prickly tone of her classmate. "So, you ready for finals?" Her laugh was shrill and artificial, though when she turned to face Margaret her expression indicated the question was earnest. "I know I'm not! I can't believe there's only two weeks of the semester left!"_

_Book edges burrowed into Margaret's flesh and her arms threatened to buckle under the weight. Unable to stand it any longer she dropped her load onto a nearby picnic table and wiped her sweat streaked arms on her turquoise tank top. "I prefer to take it day by day. Looking ahead is too daunting."_

"_Lucky," said Lucy. "All my parents care about is looking ahead. 'Your future' this, 'your future' that. It gets exhausting after a while. They're even pressuring me into this study abroad program next year."_

"_Oh?" Margaret asked rhetorically. She wound her ponytail into a bun on the top of her head and secured it with a lemon colored scrunchie she'd been wearing on her wrist. The sudden airflow on the back of her neck felt heavenly._

"_Yeah, it's part of the social work program. Not a requirement, but you do get some kudos for taking part. It's supposed to give you a wider perspective by learning social work practices in other countries or something like that. I'm trying to finish my essay for the scholarship application. I hate that they make it due right now with all the end-of-semester kookiness going on. Can you believe that?"_

_Margaret licked her dry lips. "Not at all."_

_Lucy shrugged. "Well, I've gotta get. My next class is in ten minutes and I've still gotta hit the little girls' room." She waved before skipping off across the lawn._

_Margaret slouched down on the seat of the bench. Her next class didn't start for a few more hours, time she would normally use to study, but the heat was making her sleepy, and she was very tempted to lug her books out to her car and just take a nap instead._

Ricky roused from his sleep to the sound of the shower. He rubbed his eyes and scoured the floor of Clementine's bedroom for his t-shirt from the night before which he found at the foot of her bed. Aside from the sound of water in the pipes, nothing else was discernible from his side of the locked door. He quietly turned the handle and peered into the hallway. All clear. Ricky made a beeline for the bathroom and found the door unlocked, much to his surprise. He slipped inside and locked it to be on the safe side.

"Ricky?" Clementine's voice came from the other side of the shower curtain.

"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked coyly.

"No, I just wanted to make sure none of the guys had popped back to the house for some reason. Not that they ever burst in on me in here because they don't otherwise I wouldn't share a house with them."

Ricky shed his shirt and boxers and neared the shower. "Mind if I burst in on you?"

Clementine's wet hand slipped out from between the curtain and the wall of the shower causing a plume of steam to hit Ricky's face. "Do you even have to ask?"

Ricky grinned and stepped into the shower, looking his wet girlfriend up and down with a smile.

"You dirty boy," Clementine laughed. She grabbed a bottle of citrus body wash, flipped it upside down, and squeezed a translucent orange glob into her hot palm. Grinning, she planted her hand on Ricky's chest and began to rub the body wash into a lather.

Not anticipating the friction of her wet hair, Ricky quite literally tangled his hand into her tresses. "Okay, that didn't work out as romantically as I expected."

"Oh shut up," Clementine laughed. She leaned in and kissed him.

"Mmmm," Ricky murmured. He freed his hand from her mussed hair and placed both on her slick hips.

Clementine ran her soapy hands down her boyfriend's washboard abs, then around to his rear and gave him a quick tug until their bodies were pressed against one another beneath the searing heat of the showerhead. "You know, I had an epiphany when we were in the hot tub on your birthday."

"And." Kiss. "What." Kiss. "Epiphany." Kiss. "Was." Kiss. "That?" Kiss.

Clementine arched her head so Ricky could continue kissing up neck. "I'm very fond of you when you're wet."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_Ah-ah-ahhhhhh!" Cindy shrieked. She was seated in the seat second-to-the-front of a public bus beside her mother and her knuckles were gripping the edge of the seat in front of her._

"_Miss, are you sure you don't want me to stop so you can call an ambulance?" the young African-American man driving the bus hesitantly asked. He eyed Cindy warily from the mirror located above the window shield._

"_We don't – have money – for an ambulance!" Cindy growled in between contraction pain._

"_Are you sure you're not gonna have your baby on the bus?"_

"_Do I look sure of anyth—aaahhhhhhhhhhh!"_

"_¡Respira!" Jimena scolded._

"_I am breathing!" Cindy beat her fists on the edge of the seat. "God, why do we have to be so poor you don't even have a second car to take me to the hospital in?!" Tears spurted from her eyes. "I hate this! I hate my life!"_

_Jimena blinked, the frustrated mask momentarily gone from her face. She placed her hand atop her daughter's, but Cindy quickly shooed it away. The mask returned. "Respira como te dije."_

"How long is this going to take?" Adrian snapped. She was reclined in the front seat of Ben's car with a dark eye mask over her face.

"It's a bit of a drive," Ben admitted sheepishly. Adrian reached for the eye mask but Ben moved his hand away from the wheel to stop her. "Don't. Please."

"Tell me what's going on, Ben."

"It's a surprise."

"I'd rather be home."

"Yeah, I knew you'd say no, which is why I had to do it this way."

Adrian's full lips puckered into a sneer. "Ever stop to think there could be a reason for that?"

"You're mad at me, but that's not a good enough reason." Ben turned the dial on the radio. "Just sit back and relax."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

_Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It" vibrated from the stereo, the sink was stacked with dirty dishes, and smelly stained tube socks were strewn about the floor of the Juergens' apartment. The veins in Kathleen Juergens' neck swelled hot and scarlet._

_George was reclined in an old armchair, his eyes closed and feet bare. A plate with dried bits of sauce from the previous night's lasagna was balanced on the armrest beside him._

_Kathleen grabbed one of the dirty socks from the floor and stalked up to George, dousing him in her shadow. She waited to see if he'd wake and when he didn't, she shoved the foul smelling present into his face._

_George's eyes and mouth shot open as the sweaty stench of the sock plugged his nose. The remainder of the sock fell down into his mouth._

_Delighted by that unintended consequence, Kathleen pulled her hand back and crossed her arms as her husband flailed to spit out the sock._

_The plate beside George caught his arm, teetered, and shattered on the floor. George spat the sock out, nearly gagging and clawing at his tongue. "What the fuck, Kathleen?!"_

"_How many times have I told you not to leave your disgusting socks on the floor?!"_

"_They're just socks!" George blared. "But what you did, that's – that's –"_

"_What?" the blonde taunted._

"_Assault!"_

"_Ha!"_

_George scrambled to his feet. "There's no telling what kind of germs are on those socks and you put one in my mouth!"_

"_It _fell_ in your mouth," Kathleen corrected. "But for the record: 'there's no telling what kind of germs are on those socks' yet _I _should have to be the one to pick them up every goddamn fucking night?!"_

"_Watch your language," George shot back. "You just used the Lord's name in vain."_

_Kathleen slipped off her high heel and threw it at her husband._

_George ducked. "What?" he challenged. "Are you going to shove your shoe down my throat next?"_

"_You know, that's a really good idea!" Kathleen tore off her other shoe and prepared to throw it at George when a pummeling noise came from their front door._

"_Police, open up!"_

_Kathleen pointed her shoe at George and in a low growl said, "This is your fault. Again!"_

A scream erupted from upstairs and Grace left her son in his playpen to investigate. "Mom!" she hollered. "Are you okay?" When she poked her head into her mother's room, she found Kathleen standing by the bed, holding a white tube sock. "Mom?"

"_Socks!"_ Kathleen seethed.

"I don't under –"

Kathleen bent over and grabbed another sock from underneath Grace's foot. "I cannot believe him!"

"Who?"

"George!"

"What did he –"

"Socks!"

Grace blinked and then something occurred to her. She looked out the bedroom and noted another tube sock in the hallway. "There's another one."

"What?" Kathleen shoved her head out the door and stomped over to the sock, picking it off the ground. "Wait a minute," she murmured, spotting another sock near the top of the stairs.

Grace followed behind her mother, realizing that every three or so stairs had another sock and the trail led all the way into the kitchen and halfway around the island.

Kathleen grabbed the last tube sock from the tile floor, muttering profanities, and realized that the last sock was heavier all the others. She jiggled the final sock and something weighted down the toe like a Christmas stocking. Curious, she turned the sock upside down and shook out its contents to discover a black velvet box. When she opened it, a diamond ring stared back at her.

Grace gulped. "Is that…"

George crawled out from behind the other side of the island and positioned himself on one knee in front of his girlfriend. "Kathleen Victoria Smith Bowman, I know you're probably furious with me right now, but I have a question I would like you to take very seriously: will you marry me, again?"

Kathleen stared at the engagement ring in shock. She recognized it: the same ring he'd used to propose to her the first time. Her eyes watered. "George?"

"Yes?"

"I have a question for you."

"Anything."

Kathleen stroked the velvet box for a moment, then suddenly shoved all the socks she'd collected into his face. "Will be pick up your damn socks?"

George sputtered at the socks fell away, mostly to the tile floor but one caught on his shoulder and two on his bent knee. "I'll do anything if you'll be my wife. So?"

Kathleen sniffed. "Yes."

George slid the ring onto Kathleen's hand and stood up, leaning in for a kiss.

Kathleen pushed his head away. "I'm not kissing your dirty sock face."

"They were clean socks!"

"So says you."

George harrumphed. "Fine, I'll go wash my face, but as soon as I'm back…"

Kathleen grinned and swatted his bottom on the way out of the kitchen.

Grace stared at her mother. "Did that really just happen?"

Kathleen beamed in the direction George left in. "Yes," she said. "I just got engaged."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_I love you Sarah, but I'm not going to sit back and watch you destroy yourself."_

_Sarah Mirabelli rolled over in her bed. Her hair was ratted, her face puffy, her eyes bloodshot. She patted her wrinkled sheets drunkenly. "Come cuddle with me, Leo."_

_Leo picked up Sarah's hairbrush and stood at the side of her bed, refusing to sit down. He began to run the brush through her hair ever so gently to avoid hurting her when the bristles caught on the knots. "This isn't you, Sarah. You need to stop this."_

"_But I _like _my whiskey." Sarah leaned back against her fiancé. "And I like it when you play with me hair," she giggled._

_Leo set the brush down and knelt in front of her bedside. "You told me you wanted to stop drinking. You said you wanted to quit before our wedding."_

_Sarah's eyes wandered his face._

"_You're looking at me but you're not _seeing _me. I'm trying to help you, Sarah. I'm trying to help you achieve _your _goals."_

_Sarah shook her head. "I can't stop. No one can stop."_

"_People can; they do. You're strong and you can."_

"_Not in time for our wedding."_

_Leo placed his hands over her far too cool ones. "Then we'll delay the wedding."_

"_But you wanted to get married right after graduation."_

"_And we still can. We will! We'll just push the wedding back to a little bit later this year so you can focus on getting yourself taken care of, okay?"_

_Sarah leaned in close to Leo's face and gave him a watery smile. "How long are you willing to wait for me, Leo Boykewich?"_

_Leo could smell the whiskey heavy on her breath, but it didn't deter him. "As long as it takes."_

"We're here."

"So can I take off my eye mask now?"

"Nope." Ben went around to Adrian's side of the car, opened the door, and took her hand to help her out.

"I feel like a doll."

"Just follow me." Ben pulled out his cell phone and used the glow from the screen as a flashlight since it was already dark. "We're going through a door now, so be careful."

Adrian shuffled, making sure not to trip as they went inside. She was about to protest the eye mask again when something caught her attention. She sniffed. The air smelt familiar, woody and smoky, but not in an alarming way. "Do I smell chicken?"

"Good nose."

Adrian turned at the sound of the new voice. "Henry?"

"Evening, Adrian," Henry Miller replied.

"Thanks for everything," Ben said. He tossed Henry his car keys. "I'll see you later."

"Have a good night."

"That's what I'm aiming for."

"Ben—"

Ben touched his finger to her lips. "Just sit down."

"Where?" Adrian snapped.

Ben guided her a few feet away. "Here."

Adrian begrudgingly took a seat. "It feels like wood."

"Yep." Ben delicately removed the eye mask and waited for Adrian's eyes to adjust to the light.

Adrian's jaw loosened. "Ben…"

"Recognize it?"

"How could I forget? We're at the cabins."

"Where we first met." Ben sat down beside her and motioned to the hot trays set out on the empty log tables. "I had the menu from that night made and brought up here by Henry."

Adrian peered into the nearest hot tray. "Smoky barbequed drumsticks."

Ben pointed to Adrian's empty paper plate. "Dig in."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

_Margaret stabbed a pin through a homemade flyer, securing it to the back of a campus corkboard. It advertised her tutoring services for math and English. Although she spent her first two years of college at a community college to cut down on her higher education costs, she still had to find ways to pay for her the remainders of her master's degree while simultaneously acing her classes as a full time student._

_As she turned away to find a place for the next flyer, another advertisement on the corkboard caught the corner of her eye: _Social Work Abroad! _The conversation with Lucy a week earlier buzzed at the back of her mind. Margaret unpinned the flyer and examined it. Vague at best, but it asked for interested students in the social work program to drop in at the main office if they had further interest. Margaret teetered with the idea, almost ready to hang the flyer back up when she remembered Lucy had mentioned something about a scholarship opportunity._

"_Couldn't hurt, I guess. If it sends me somewhere and pays for my entire semester…" Margaret clicked her tongue. That would surely be more worthwhile than scraping together whatever tutoring gigs she could get. With a renewed burst of energy she memorized the office number on the paper, folded it, and slipped it into her back pocket. It was fifteen to five and she hoped the office wouldn't already be closed by the time she got to the other end of the campus._

Ricky walked his fingertips up Clementine's bare leg, slipping them under the hem of her sundress.

Clementine playfully swatted his hand away. "We're trying to watch a movie."

"I thought 'watching a movie' was code for 'making out'?"

Clementine kissed him quickly. "It's not. Now look," she said, motioning to the television with mock annoyance. "You made me miss what happened. Where's the remote?"

Ricky shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Seriously, I want to rewind it."

"Seriously," Ricky said. "I have no idea." He looked at the coffee table, the floor, and the armrests. No dice. He stood up to make sure he hadn't accidentally sat on it, but it wasn't there either.

"This is ridiculous," Clementine pouted. "We had it not five minutes ago."

"Are you sitting on it?"

Clementine stood up. "No. But it might be between the cushions. Things are always falling down there. Here, help me." She proceeded to pull one cushion up and Ricky the other. As suspected, the remote was underneath. Clementine grabbed it and began to rewind the video.

"Hey look," Ricky joked. "A dum-dum and junk mail too."

Clementine rolled her eyes.

"Your junk mail, actually."

"What?" Clementine took the mail from Ricky and her eyes widened.

"I don't like that look."

Ignoring him, Clementine tore open the envelope and scanned the letter. "Oh no!"

"What?" Ricky asked, seriousness replacing his previously playful tone.

"This isn't junk mail!" Clementine began to pace. "Oh god, I am going to kill them! I can't believe they lost my mail in the couch!"

"What?" Ricky asked again. "What's wrong?"

Clementine handed Ricky the letter.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

_Cindy stepped out of the bathroom in her hospital room and stopped when she saw her ex-boyfriend seated in the chair beside her bed, holding a pink bundle in his arms. "Ruben."_

_Ruben looked up, his face a wash of disappointment. "You couldn't even call me to tell me our daughter was born. I had to find out from the hospital birth announcement in the newspaper!"_

"_I was a little busy," Cindy snapped. She hobbled into bed, keeping as much distance as she could between herself and Ruben._

"_Most women manage it."_

"_I'm not most women."_

"_You're damn right," Ruben growled._

_Adrian stirred._

_Ruben kissed his daughter's head and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Most women don't get pregnant on purpose to trap a man in a relationship and then villainize said man for offering to marry them."_

"'_Offer,'" Cindy scoffed. "I don't need your pity, Ruben Enriquez."_

_Ruben eyed the hospital bracelet on Adrian's wrist: _Lee, Adrian E._ "What does the 'E' stand for?"_

_Cindy looked away. "Esperanza."_

_Ruben shook his head. "You're despicable."_

"_It was the name of my grandmother!"_

"_You couldn't even give her my name."_

"I _carried her for nine months!"_

"_After pinholing my condoms so you could make sure she existed in the first place!"_

"_Nobody forced you to have sex with me, Ruben. Just because you use a condom doesn't mean it will work."_

"_Accidents happen, yes, but you sabotaged me. By definition, that is not an accident! I wouldn't have agreed to sleep with you if I knew the only reason you wanted me in bed was to get knocked up."_

"_Glad to know," Cindy spat. "So you're off the hook. Just hand me back my daughter and you can stay out of our lives for good." She reached for her newborn, but Ruben didn't give in._

"_No. It worked, Cindy: you got yourself pregnant and gave birth to my child. You and I are in this for life. You can't just kick me to the curb now. This is my child too!"_

_Cindy slapped the bed. "Are you deaf? I said we don't need or want you! I gave birth to Adrian, she's mine! And if you want to take it to court, I will win. The courts always side with the mother."_

"_Is there something wrong here, Miss Lee?"_

_Cindy glanced up at the nurse in the doorway. She smiled. "I was just getting ready to take a nap and this...old friend, was just leaving."_

"_Would you like me to take Adrian to the nursery while you're asleep?" the nurse asked._

_Cindy shot a wicked smile at Ruben. "Yes, thank you. I'd like that very much."_

_Ruben reluctantly handed Adrian over to the nurse. "Can you show me where the nursery is?"_

"_Of course," the nurse smiled. "But you can't go in."_

"_That's fine," Ruben agreed. "All I need is the window."_

"_This way, Sir."_

"Just around the corner," Ben said, ushering Adrian along.

Adrian rubbed her belly. "Beeeeen," she groaned. "I'm getting a sideache, I think I ate too much."

"Here." Ben motioned his arm.

Adrian gawked. "Is that—"

"Yep. The exact same truck. How do you think the food got here?"

Adrian stared at the back end of the delivery truck. "How do you know it's the same one?"

Ben blushed. "That night is burned into me, Adrian. I memorized the license plate." He offered his hand. "Fancy a look?"

Adrian sighed and dropped her hand into his, allowing him to lead her to the truck. The moment Ben opened the door the scent of the cab called back to her.

Ben helped Adrian inside and climbed in beside her, shutting the door.

"I can't believe you did all this," Adrian murmured. She brushed her hand over the dashboard. "Recreating our first…encounter."

"I've been thinking about it for a while. I was going to plan it for next month, the three year anniversary, but things have been so tense between us lately that I thought maybe it would be more helpful now."

Adrian bowed her head. "Ben…"

Ben cupped the side of Adrian's face, forcing her to look at him. "Please, Adrian: don't shut me out."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

_George waltzed through the door with a bouquet of red roses in hand. A hand which was caked with grime and dirt from moving furniture around to reconfigure the store displays. The roses were a sudden thought on his way home, a nice gesture after all the fights he and Kathleen had been having lately._

_He stopped off in the kitchen to wash his hands. As he reached for the soap dish he noticed something odd sitting by the soap bar; a glint. "What are you doing here?" he asked, picking up his wife's diamond ring. It served as both an engagement and wedding ring, since he didn't have money to buy her one of each. "Kat must've forgot you when she was washing dishes. Good thing I found you, she'd be out of her mind if she thought she'd lost you."_

_George dried his hands, cupped the ring in his palm, grabbed the bouquet, and went straight to his their tiny bedroom. On the way he found her heels strewn across the floor and nudged them away, assuming his wife was trying to get him back over the dirty socks. The door was ajar when he arrived and odd sounds were coming from inside. "I hope you're not on your hands and knees looking for your lost wedding ring," George singsonged as he pushed inside. "Because lucky for you I—" The blood drained from his face. Kathleen was most definitely on her hands and knees, but not in the way he'd imagined. The flowers and the ring fell from his hands._

_Kathleen scrambled away from her lover and attempted to wrap a sheet around herself. "George! George, wait!" But the front door slammed before she could reach him. Under her foot she felt the cold metal of her wedding ring._

"I like seeing that on you again," George said, cuddling with his new fiancé on the couch.

Kathleen stared at the ring glinting in the glow of the television. "Are you sure it was a good idea to give me this one again?"

"Why not?"

Kathleen frowned.

"Okay," George agreed. "Maybe some people might consider it a bad omen, but not me. I was a prick the first time around. Maybe I still am to an extent, but I swear I'm a better man now. I drove you away, but I never stopped loving you, and this ring symbolizes that love I've always had."

Kathleen snuggled closer to George and cupped his face. "I love you too, George Juergens."

"Get a room," Ashley scowled from the recliner.

"Good idea," George said. He suddenly scooped Kathleen up in a squeal in delight and carried her out of the living room, leaving their daughters and Tom to themselves.

"This still doesn't feel quite real," Amy said quietly. "Our parents are really getting married."

Grace nodded. "I always thought my dad would be the be all, end all for my mom."

"I am happy fo' them," Tom Bowman said. "They ma' a goo' couple."

Grace nodded. "I think so too."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Is there a 'family' pool on how long it will last this time?"

"Ashley!" Amy snapped.

Grace gazed into the playpen at her sleeping son. She knew she should get him into his bed, but for the last hour she hadn't wanted to wake him just to do that. "Given all they've been through, put me down for the long haul."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_We've reviewed your application, Miss Marjani. You have an exemplary GPA, an impressive list of extracurriculars, and you're well versed in the social work program. You are exactly the type of scholarship candidate we're looking for and we're happy to announce we've accepted you into the Social Work Aboard program."_

"_I'm surprised and grateful," Margaret replied, "but the looks on your faces tell me there's something else you haven't said yet."_

"_Perceptive too," one of the review board members commented._

_The first member of the board spoke again: "We did have an early bird enrollment period for students who were eager to have first pick of the countries they would like to study in. Since you got your application in on the last day of the deadline and not the early bird enrollment deadline—as impressive as your application is—none of your top study locations are available anymore."_

_Margaret exhaled. "I see. So what _is _available?"_

"_Ecuador, Mexico, and India."_

"_No other strings attached?"_

"_Everything is exactly as outlined in the forms you signed for the application. You will be held to the same standards and given the same amenities in the aforementioned locations."_

"_Is this something I can think about for a while?"_

"_Absolutely," the just board member said eagerly. "You have a week from today to decide and if we don't hear from you we will be forced to assume you've declined our offer."_

"_Right." Margaret stood up and offered her hand to each of the board members. "Thank you. I really appreciate your time and consideration."_

"_The pleasure has been ours, Miss Marjani."_

"I can't believe this!" Clementine raged for the umpteenth time. "I was looking for this letter for weeks and I finally gave up, figuring they hadn't approved my application like the last time I applied for the study abroad program. All this time they've been waiting on _my _acceptance and the deadline passed two days ago!"

"I'm sorry," Ricky said. Guiltily, he wasn't sorry at all; he was relieved.

"It's not your fault," Clementine sniffed. She wiped her eyes. "I just wanted this _so _much. I can't believe this!"

Ricky wrapped his arms around Clementine's waist and pulled her to his chest. As much as he was glad she wouldn't be going to China, he still didn't like seeing her at the point of tears. "I wish there was something more I could do for you."

Clementine let her head fall against her boyfriend's shoulder. "You're doing it."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_How is my little sister doing?" Sal Mirabelli's voice asked from the other side of the world._

_Leo switched the receiver to his opposite ear. He was seated on a chair at Sarah's bedside, watching her sleep. "Better than last week. I just finished sending out the last of the letters to let friends and family know the wedding's been delayed with a date yet to be announced."_

"_I'm sorry, Leo. I wish I could shake some sense into that girl."_

"_It's not her fault."_

"_Don't let her off the hook so easily," Sal argued. "Addiction may run in our family, but Sarah is also capable of making her own choices."_

"_She's confused."_

"_Not about loving you."_

_Leo stroked Sarah's hair. "I know. But she knew liquor before she knew me. That's a hard habit to break. I have to give her time."_

"I know you love him," Ben said, "but I love you and you said yourself you still love me too. I'm begging you not to give up on us just yet."

Tears spilled down Adrian's cheeks. "Please don't do this, Ben."

"I'm not giving you an ultimatum." Ben pulled Adrian to him and kissed the tears away from her cheeks. "But I am giving you a choice."

"I don't understand."

"We've been through so much, Adrian. _You _have been through so much. I don't want to be the source of anymore pain or confusion for you. You won't even talk to me because you're too busy writing to and hoping to hear back from Antonio and I'm sneaking around to intercept your letters. It's straining us; we're pulling away from each other. Strained is something we can come back from, but not if we break. So I'm letting you go."

Adrian grabbed Ben's hand as he tried to remove it from her cheek. She shook her head.

"Don't worry." Ben smiled. "I'm not going anywhere. You know why?"

Confused, Adrian shook her head.

"Because I have faith. I'm telling you we're meant to be, so I'm letting you go to give you your space because I know that eventually, you'll come back to me and I'll be here to embrace you with open arms."

"Are you sure about this?" Adrian asked, her voice cracking.

Ben nodded. "And the fact that you're asking me if I'm sure instead of begging me not to tells me I'm making the right decision."

Adrian let her hand slide from Ben's and sniffed as his hand fell away from her face. "If you were going to break up with me tonight, why did you bring me here in the first place?"

"To remind you of all the good that came out of us being together and how it all started. I love you, Adrian Lee. Don't forget that." Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the truck. "Better get buckled, it's a long drive back."

Adrian grabbed Ben's hand and pushed it down, taking the keys from his hands and discarding them on the dashboard. "Not yet," Adrian said.

"It's late and we've both got work in the morning," Ben argued.

"If you're going to go through with this, just give me_—_give us_—_a few more minutes," Adrian pleaded. "Can't you do that for a pretty girl?"

Ben smiled reverently. "You're still not pretty," he whispered. "You're _beautiful_."

Adrian smiled through tears. "Show me _how _beautiful."

Ben kissed Adrian tenderly. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Adrian rasped.

Ben reached for his wallet and took out a shiny condom with Italian writing on the wrapper. "Last one in the box," he said.

"Because using a condom from your wallet worked out so well for us last time," Adrian said, laughing in spite of the heaviness in her chest.

"That one had been there a quite a while," Ben admitted. "This one hasn't been here long. The package still looks nice, see?"

"And I'm on the pill this time," Adrian said.

"So…you really want this? I don't want you to do this for me, I want you to do this for you."

Adrian nodded.

"Okay," Ben said resolutely. "But this time, I want to return the favor by making you happy first." Ben set his wallet aside. He slid onto the floor and reached to unzip her jeans.


End file.
